Tristan’s P.O.V

I paced the room, each step slow but heavy, the carpet muffling the tension building inside me. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest. I didn’t want to admit it—to myself, much less out loud—but my thoughts kept circling back to Sophia.

She left with nothing. No suitcase, no clothes, no money, not even her phone charger, for God’s sake. What the hell was she thinking? Where would she even go? It made ...