Sage

Ellen hesitated, lips pressed thin, worry clear. Finally she nodded, stepping back, but instead of leaving, she lingered by the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

I turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs, but I could feel her gaze on my back like a weight.

“I won’t be able to continue if you keep staring at me like that,” I said without turning, voice dry.

A soft huff—half laugh, half sigh. “I’m only making sure you don’t overdo it.”

“I need to be alone, Ellen.”

Silence. Then the quiet shuffle of her footsteps retreating, the door closing softly behind her.

I finished in peace—eggs perfectly fluffy, bacon crisp, everything...