Chapter 3: Buried Promises
- Jan 2
- 6 min read
The engine's hum faded as Michael pulled into his driveway, the car's headlights cutting through the quiet darkness of his street. He killed the ignition, but didn't move, his hands still on the wheel, fingers drumming a restless rhythm. The bridge's shadow clung to him, that fleeting image from the drive. Standing on the edge, the wind whispers freedom, now buried under layers of rational thought. It was just a stray idea, born of fatigue and the weight of the night. Nothing more.
Inside, his apartment greeted him with silence, the kind that pressed in like an uninvited guest. The clock on the wall ticked softly, marking time he suddenly felt slipping away. He tossed his keys on the counter, the clatter echoing too loudly. The engagement ring box, still in his pocket from the announcement, felt like a stone, heavy with unspoken questions.
How had the spark from that rainy day in the bookstore dimmed to this?
Natasha's kiss on his cheek lingered, a ghost of their beginning, but the imbalance he'd ignored for years now gnawed at him.
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