The dawn bled in slow, relentless shades of grey through the penthouse windows like molten silver, its cold light casting long, reluctant shadows across the marble floors.
The city outside hummed quietly beneath a sky heavy with promise and threat, the kind of day where everything changes, even if no one notices at first.
Inside, Aria sat rigid, on the edge of the bed, her posture taut, the weight of the night's restless thoughts settling deep into her bones. The cold sheets was wrapped around her like a fragile armor, but even though they couldn't shield her from the storm roiling inside her mind.
This morning, the silence between them wasn't new, but was louder than any argument they ever had.
Her gaze heavy but unyielding drifted to the empty space beside her where Dante should have been, his side of the bed untouched, the scent of his cologne was absent like a missing note in a song she'd stopped trying to hum.
