Aden stared at a spot on the carpet about a foot away from the couch. There was nothing special about this spot on the carpet, which is what fascinated him. In the home that Aden was used to, Aden had tripped over his own two feet the second day of their marriage, and left a tea stain roughly the shape of a goat’s head in the carpet. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get the stain out.
The carpet Aden was staring at was pristine. Not a single spot on the entire thing.
Everything was just slightly off. This was home, and he lived here with Bryn—and it felt so very easy and so similar that he could just slip right into it.
But at the same time, it wasn’t this home and this wasn’t his Bryn. So many little things had changed. So many little moments were different. Enough added up to the point where Aden wasn’t sure he’d ever feel stable again.
But if this what how he felt look at his home, looking at Bryn—how in the world did she feel looking back at him?