Anna's POV:

The bed is cold on his side.

I reach for him before I'm fully awake, and my palm finds empty sheet—still slightly warm, which means he left recently enough that I almost caught him. I sit up. His pillow still holds the indent of his head. I press my fingers into it, just for a second, and then I stop doing that and swing my legs over the edge.

On the kitchen counter there's a note in his handwriting—three lines, no ...