Threads of Denial

DAPHNE

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of fabric rustling in my hands. I pushed the needle through the blue material, my fingers moving on their own. But my mind wasn’t on the scarf—I was too lost in my thoughts.

It had been a week. A whole week since Dominic had told me about his family demanding a divorce. Seven days of silence between us, of stolen glances and unspoken words. Seven