The morning sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains, spilling gold across the marble floor. The apartment is too quiet, painfully quiet. Roman’s side of the bed is cold, untouched since last night. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers on the pillow, sharp and grounding, but it does little to ease the heaviness sitting in my chest.

I stare at my phone again. No messages. No missed calls.

Just silence.

He didn’t come home.

I tell myself there must be a reason… that ...