Julian's POV
The house was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind. The hollow kind.
Her shoes were still by the door. A scarf draped over the back of the couch. Little pieces of her, scattered like she meant to come back.
But I knew better.
I want a break, she said.
And she meant it.
After everything we'd been through?
After the threats, the fear, the nights she clung to me like I was the last safe thing she knew?
Now she wanted space.
I should've called her. Asked what she meant. Fought harder.
But I didn't.
Instead, I threw myself into work—into schedules and calls and updates that meant nothing.
Except… even work didn't feel the same.
I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor like it had answers. It didn't.
I hadn't slept.
Not really.
I kept hearing her voice in the hallway. The way she packed in silence. The way she didn't cry, didn't explain—just left.
I didn't stop her.
Maybe I should have.
But I didn't know what to say. I still don't.
