"Yes ma'am." He watched her turn as she left, and he allowed himself a slow exhale, a rare release. She was acting all tough now—but he knew her, knew her too well. All it would take was five minutes in the right space, and she would be trembling in his arms, surrendering without question.
She had won the battle by shutting him out, controlling the narrative of their fractured connection—but now, the tide was turning. She had given him a flicker of hope, a single thread to follow back into her orbit. And he would not let it go to waste.
He moved through his usual night routine with a little more ease than normal, the ritual of shower, and dinner.
Finally, he made his way to her annex. He pushed the door open. The living room was empty.
