I didn't look right away. Instead, I let myself imagine all the things it could be—an apology, an explanation, even just a single "I'm sorry" —before finally turning the screen toward me.

He still hasn't called.

I set the phone down and pressed my palm flat against the cool glass of the window. Outside, a couple hurried past under a shared umbrella, laughing. They didn't seem to mind the storm.

And that was the worst part.

Work email.

Three days since the argument. Three days of silence stretching between us like a canyon I wasn't sure either of us knew how to cross. My coffee had gone cold an hour ago, but I kept holding the mug anyway. The warmth was gone, but the weight of it in my hands felt like something to hold onto.