From Across the Room: CH. 2

CHAPTER TWO: TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT

THE MORNING AFTER

Andrea is making breakfast.

Not reheating something. Not pouring cereal into a bowl and calling it a gesture. She’s actually making breakfast—bare feet on the tile, music playing softly from her phone, the smell of coffee and butter and something sweet blooming through the kitchen. I stand in the doorway longer than necessary, watching like I’m afraid the moment might spook if I acknowledge it too quickly.

She hasn’t done this in three years.

Not since the year we tried to convince ourselves we were still the kind of couple who cooked together on weekends. Not since before dinner became something we outsourced and mornings turned into logistics. And yet here she is, flipping something in a pan, humming to herself, light on her feet in a way I don’t recognize.

She looks… happy.

Not relieved. Not content. Giddy. There’s a looseness to her movements, a buoyancy, like gravity has been dialed back a notch. She turns when she hears me and smiles—wide, unguarded, the kind of smile she used to have when we were dating, when everything felt provisional and therefore exciting.

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