The apartment was quiet when I got back. Too quiet.

I dropped my keys on the counter and loosened the knot of my tie, debating whether I should take a shower before crashing into bed. Dinner had already been checked off at Trent's, so there wasn't much else demanding my attention—except maybe the constant hum of my thoughts.

That's when my phone rang.

The screen lit up with her name. Val.

Every nerve in my body went sharp. I didn't even hesitate before answering.

"Hey," I breathed, softer than I meant to.

Her face filled the screen. The same familiar light that always made something deep in me loosen.

"Sorry," she started immediately, her voice quick, almost guilty. "I saw the missed call. I was busy then."

The corners of my mouth pulled up before I even thought about it. God, she had no idea how just seeing her could undo me. "It's fine," I said, and meant it more than she'd ever know.

Her gaze flicked over me. I saw the way her eyes narrowed at the dark suit jacket still hanging on my shoulders. "You're just getting home?"

I gave a small nod. "Yeah. Was with Trent."

That seemed to satisfy her—at least a little. She leaned back against her pillows, lips pursing like she was pretending not to be concerned.

I smirked, lifting my left hand to flash the ring at her. "Don't worry. I can't talk to other girls, remember?"

Her eyes sharpened instantly, and then her mouth curled in that smug, wicked smile that was all Val. "Oh, believe me," she drawled, "if you tried, they'd run screaming the second they found out who I am."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

"Mm, and yet you're with me," she shot back, arching one elegant brow.

I sank onto the couch, finally letting myself breathe. "Yeah," I said quietly, "I am."

That softened her expression just a fraction, but she quickly masked it by brushing her hair over her shoulder like she was changing the subject. "So… how was your day?"

I shrugged, leaning back into the cushions. "Work. Meetings. Numbers. Nothing exciting." Then I tilted my head at her. "Yours?"

She hesitated, her lips pressing together in thought. "It was… okay."

I thought that was all she'd give me, but then her eyes lit up, sharp and mischievous all at once. "Oh! There's this girl in my program—Natasha. She's insane. Friendly, sure, but she likes to party way too much. Can you believe she came to class hungover?"

I chuckled, watching her with my full attention. Not really at the story, but at her.

The way her eyes narrowed when she was serious, then went wide with disbelief. The scrunch of her nose when she mimicked someone else's stupidity. The little twitch of her mouth like she was trying not to laugh at her own punchline.

But more than anything, it was her eyes. Those eyes that carried chaos like a storm but somehow grounded my world every single time I looked into them.

I barely spoke. I didn't need to. She carried the conversation, weaving through anecdotes about professors, classmates, and some ridiculous cafeteria mishap that had her throwing her hands up in dramatic despair.

And I just… listened.

Hours blurred together.

By the time I finally glanced at the clock, it was 2:43 a.m.

She was still talking, still animated, still radiant.

I let out a yawn I couldn't hold back.

Val's eyes immediately dropped, catching it. She bit her lip. "You should probably rest. You've still got work tomorrow."

I shook my head. "I'm okay, actually."

Her gaze sharpened like she was counting. "That was the sixth yawn in the last five minutes."

"People yawn all the time," I countered lightly. "It's a normal biological response."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced.

The thought of the call ending felt like a curtain dropping, leaving me alone with the quiet again.

I sighed, running a hand down my face. "I don't… want the call to end."

That silenced her for a beat. The mischief in her eyes softened, and for once, she wasn't hiding behind quips or sharp comebacks. "Me too," she whispered.

The quiet stretched between us, and then—because she could never leave things too tender—her lips curved into something sly. "But you do have work tomorrow."

I groaned. "You're cruel."

She didn't answer right away. Her lips pressed together, eyes flicking like she was weighing something . Then, with the kind of mischief only she could pull off, she leaned in and murmured, "If you go to bed right now, I'll send you a boob pic."

I froze, blinking at her. "Seriously?" A laugh broke out of me despite myself, low and disbelieving. "You really are something."

Her giggle bubbled through the speaker. "What? It's a good kind of motivation."

I laughed again, the sound coming easier than it had in days. "Fine. I'll go to bed. And not because of the boob pic—" I leaned closer to the screen, lowering my voice. "Because I know you'll feel bad if I don't wake up on time."

Her smirk wavered, just for a second. The kind of pause that said my words had landed deeper than she expected. Then, true to form, she pushed through, tilting her head as the mischief slid back into place. "So… no need for the boob pic then?"

I raised a brow. "I didn't say that."

She burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.

We chuckled together, the sound stretching into a softer silence. For a long moment, we just… stared. Like maybe the distance wasn't there. Like maybe the screen wasn't the only thing between us.

Finally, I broke the quiet. "Night night, Val. Sweet dreams."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Goodnight, husband."

She pressed a kiss to the camera, then the screen went dark.

I set the phone down, peeling off my suit jacket. Too tired to shower, too worn to think. I stripped just enough to be comfortable and sank into bed.

The ache was still there. It always would be. That gnawing silence waiting for me when the screen went black.

But tonight, after her laughter, her stories, her chaos filling the space—

It didn't feel as sharp.

Not as unbearable.

Just enough to let me close my eyes and drift into sleep.

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To be continued...

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