Yasmin POV — Present Tense

Morning light pushes through the blinds, too bright, too sharp, like it’s trying to expose every corner of my apartment and everything in me I’ve tried to keep ordered.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my phone in hand.

The screen is silent.

No messages.

No calls returned.

Nothing.

Dre has never ignored me for this long.

My thumb hovers over his name. I press call again.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Voicemail.

A slow pressure builds in my chest, the kind that ...