The silence that reclaimed the study after Eris departed was more suffocating than any noise. Soren remained standing by the heavy oak door, his forehead leaning against the cool grain, the phantom scent of her… spiced embers and something uniquely her, clinging to the air.
He felt like a man who had just watched a lifeline drift out of reach while he stood on a sinking ship, paralyzed by his own pride.
He eventually pushed off the door and paced back to his desk, but he didn't sit. He stared at the empty chair where she had just been sitting.
I should have said something. The thought was a jagged stone in his throat. I should have reached out. Just once.
The image of her sitting there, vulnerable, beautiful, and questioning, haunted him. He thought of the way her neck had looked in the afternoon light, the way her lips had parted when she asked if he was sleeping.
