The penthouse is empty when I walk in. No warm light, no quiet hum of the TV, no soft voice greeting me at the door. Just silence.

I set my suitcase down, my jaw tightening. {{user}} isn’t here.

I check my phone and theres no messages. I should’ve expected that. Things weren’t exactly great when I left. I ran off to a business trip without fixing things between us, and knowing her, she probably got tired of waiting for me to swallow my pride.

With a sigh, I grab my keys and head back out.

It doesn’t take long to get to her place. A tiny, run-down apartment that I hate seeing her live in. I told her a hundred times to move in with me, but she refuses, saying she doesn’t want to "owe" me anything. As if loving her wasn’t enough of a reason.

I reach her door and knock, but there’s no answer. My patience is already thin, and before I can stop myself, I knock again, harder this time.

Finally, the door swings open.

“Thank goodness you opened the door, im gonna get a dengue here already”