Rooted 1
CHAPTER 1 Jonathan Mallari had stopped counting the days somewhere around the third year. At first, he marked them. Not on a calendar, not in anything visible, but in the quiet way grief measures time. One day without her. One week. One month. Each one heavier than the last. By the time the fifth year came, time no longer felt like something that moved forward. It simply settled around him, thick and unmoving. The apartment still looked the same. Carlie liked it that way. Or at least, she used to. The curtains remained half drawn, just enough to let the afternoon light slip through in thin lines across the floor. Dust had begun to gather in corners he once kept spotless. The kitchen counter held a mug that had not been moved since morning, its contents long gone cold. Everything existed in a state of quiet pause, as if the world inside those walls had agreed to wait for something that never arrived. Jonathan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The soft click echoed more than it should have. “You forgot to buy milk again.” Her voice came from the living room. He did not react right away. He slipped off his shoes, set his keys down, and loosened his grip on the day before answering. “I didn’t forget.” Carlie stood near the window, arms crossed, her expression familiar in a way that made his chest tighten. She looked exactly as she had five years ago. No change. No fading. The same dark hair falling over her shoulder, the same quiet intensity in her eyes. “You said that yesterday too,” she replied. Jonathan walked past her into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, stared at its near empty contents, then shut it again. “I just didn’t feel like going.” Carlie watched him for a moment. There was something in her gaze that had shifted over time, something softer and heavier at once. “You went out,” she said. “You could have stopped by the store.” He leaned against the counter and let out a slow breath. “I know.” Silence settled between them, but it was not uncomfortable. It never had been, not even now. That was the problem. It felt too normal. Five years ago, the world had ended in a hospital room filled with quiet machines and words that meant nothing once they were spoken. Five years ago, he had held her hand and felt it grow cold beneath his fingers. People told him that moment would stay with him forever. They were wrong. What stayed was everything after. It had not happened immediately. For the first few days, there had only been absence. A hollow space where her voice should have been, where her presence once filled every corner of his life. The apartment felt too large, the nights too long. He remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, waiting for something to change. Then one night, he heard her. “Jonathan.” He had turned so quickly that the room spun. She stood by the door, as if she had just walked in. No explanation. No grand revelation. She simply was. At first, he thought grief had broken something in him. People warned him about that too. Hallucinations, denial, the mind trying to protect itself from loss. He almost believed them. Until she started saying things he could not have imagined. Small things. Details he had forgotten. Conversations they never finished. Memories that did not belong to him alone. She remembered everything. And she stayed. Now, five years later, Carlie Mallari still stood in their living room like nothing had changed. Only everything had. “You met someone today.” Jonathan’s grip tightened on the edge of the counter. “I didn’t.” “You did,” Carlie said gently. “At the bookstore.” He closed his eyes for a moment. It had been a simple moment. A coincidence. He reached for a book at the same time as someone else. Their hands brushed. She laughed softly and told him he could take it. Her name was Clara. He had not planned to remember that. “I just needed something to read,” Jonathan muttered. Carlie stepped closer, her presence quiet but impossible to ignore. “You almost smiled.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “So what if I did?” Her expression softened. “Nothing.” The answer came too easily. Jonathan pushed himself away from the counter and moved into the living room. The space felt smaller with her standing there, as if the air itself adjusted to make room for something that should not exist. “You’re doing it again,” he said. “Doing what?” “This.” He gestured vaguely between them. “Talking like it matters.” Carlie tilted her head slightly. “It does matter.” “It doesn’t,” he replied, his voice tightening. “None of that matters anymore.” The words lingered in the air longer than they should have. For the first time, Carlie did not respond right away.