Mark was avoiding me.I knew it the second I walked out of my room the next morning. The penthouse felt colder, quieter — like a space caught in limbo. His keys weren’t on the counter, his shoes weren’t by the door, and the usual half-empty coffee mug he left on the dining table was nowhere to be seen.

I told myself I didn’t care. I didn’t care that he wouldn’t look at me when he finally came back that evening, his jaw tight and eyes fixed on the floor. I didn’t care that he stayed ...