Three nights.
No one said it out loud. They just let the meeting sit. Like if they waited long enough, the whole thing would settle into something they could step back into without it cracking.
It didn't.
The bar looked the same. Same lighting. Same tables. Staff moving through, carrying glasses, avoiding interruption, like the room hadn't gotten the memo that something was wrong.
Arianne's chair sat empty.
It threw everything off. Not like a missing person—like a missing tooth. The space around it felt wider. Colder. Not temperature cold. The kind of cold that sat in your chest when something was supposed to be there and wasn't.
Nate poured a drink anyway. Didn't think about it. Just filled the glass halfway and set it in front of the empty seat.
Then he saw what he'd done.
His hand hung there for a second. He almost picked it back up. Almost poured it out. Instead he let his arm drop and left it sitting there like a reflex he couldn't take back.
