I sit on the couch in the living room, the lights turned low—dim and golden, pooling in soft circles across the polished marble floor while the high corners of the room fade into shadow. The heavy velvet curtains are drawn over the tall windows, shutting out the night, and the only sounds are the distant ticking of the antique clock on the mantel and the quiet hum of the mansion settling around me.
My head is bowed, my eyes fixed on the phone in my hands—the screen glowing with messages I've sent into a void of silence.
Deniz… why did you leave like that?
Without seeing me? Without saying goodbye?
Is everything okay?
Why aren't you answering my calls?
Are you alright?
Please call me when you see this.
The words stare back at me—unanswered, unread.
The ticks beside each message remain single, never turning into that small confirmation that he's seen them.
He's never done this before.
Never left without a word. Without a touch.
