Roman returned home later than usual.
The wedding had been long, filled with conversations that meant little to him and congratulations he delivered out of obligation rather than enthusiasm. His friend Daniel looked genuinely happy, standing beside his new wife while guests surrounded them with laughter and endless photographs. Roman had stayed long enough to show respect, but once the formalities ended, he quietly excused himself.
Events like that never suited him.
By the time he arrived at the penthouse, the city outside had already settled into the quiet rhythm of night. The elevator doors opened onto the private floor, and Roman stepped into the hallway with a tired breath. He loosened the collar of his shirt slightly as he walked toward the door, feeling the weight of the evening finally catching up to him.
When he entered the penthouse, the first thing that surprised him was the smell.
Food.
