The morning silence felt heavier than I expected.
Leonardo was in the house, but…
not beside me.
The moment I realized that, unease settled in my chest.
I didn't know why it bothered me.
Standing alone in the kitchen,
I noticed I was listening for his footsteps.
That realization annoyed me.
Don't be ridiculous, I told myself.
It's just a habit.
But habits didn't ache like this.
When I stepped into the living room, I saw him.
Standing by the window.
Jacket on.
Hair messy, yet controlled—like everything about him.
I tried not to look.
I failed.
His features were sharp.
A strong jaw.
A steady gaze.
He carried himself like a man who belonged to no one, even in a crowded room.
He was handsome—
but that word wasn't enough.
He was the kind of man who knew he was being watched
and didn't care.
I looked away, annoyed at the way my heart reacted.
You don't miss him, I told myself.
The house is just too quiet.
Then he turned toward me.
Our eyes met.
It lasted a second.
But something inside me shifted.
He stopped as he passed by.
Didn't touch me.
Yet his presence felt heavier than his absence.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
I nodded.
"I'm fine."
I lied.
When he walked away,
I was left wondering how emptiness could feel so full.
And that was when I realized—
I was getting used to having him near.
And I hated myself for it.