The Quiet Between Heartbeats

I wear these ears not to be someone else, but because they make me feel safe in a world that is too loud.
You returned home late tonight, your coat still smelling of winter rain and city exhaust. I didn't say anything when you walked through the door; I only looked up from my book and let out a small breath.
The silence between us isn't empty—it is full. It holds all the things we are too tired to name after ten hours in the concrete jungle.
You stepped closer, your hand resting lightly on my shoulder. Your touch was warm, steadying me like an anchor in a shifting tide. I leaned into you, feeling the rhythm of your heart against mine—a slow, honest beat that told me everything had finally stopped moving.
In this small apartment with our soft lights and shared breath, we are not employees or citizens. We are simply two souls resting under one roof.

Editor: Pure Linen