DOMAN’S POV

The morning felt unusually heavy, as though the air itself had decided to sit on my chest. I sat alone in Dami’s living room, fingers loosely wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten to drink. My thoughts wouldn’t settle. They spun, crashed, tangled and refusing to give me a moment of peace.

Why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t she come home? By now, Dami should have returned scared, crying and clinging unto me. That was how the plan was supposed to go. She ...