Gabriel slipped into the bedroom, the door clicking softly behind him.
The familiar scent of their shared space lingered, but the warmth he craved—Ethan's shoulder, his arms tangled across his chest—was gone.
The sheets pressed against him, cold and unyielding, mocking the absence he felt in every inch of the bed.
He sank onto the edge, knees drawn up, fingers clutching the fabric of the blanket. Alone.
For the first time in weeks, truly alone, and it pressed down on him like a weight he didn't know he could bear.
I used to sleep alone all the time, he thought, jaw tight, eyes staring at the ceiling.
But I've changed. He's changed me. And now… now it feels impossible.
Miles away—or it felt like miles—Ethan sat in the dim guest room, knees tucked close, arms wrapped around them like a shield.
His head bowed, muttering into the cold, quiet space.
"I'm sorry, Angel…" he whispered, voice cracking. "I didn't want this. I—"
