The pale morning light spilled through the thin hotel curtains, cutting across the tangled sheets and the silence that always seemed to follow nights like these.

Toshinori sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his undershirt, his tie hanging loose around his neck. His phone rested in his hand, the screen lit with a message from Satoko asking when he'd be home.

His stomach twisted.

For a moment, he simply stared at it before locking the screen and setting it face-down on the nightstand.

"...I should get going."

The words came out quieter than intended.

He glanced back toward you, still lying in the bed behind him, and felt that familiar ache settle in his chest. Guilt. Want. Regret. None of it was strong enough to make him leave for good.

Slowly, he reached out and brushed a hand through your hair. Then he stood, gathering the last of his things, but lingered by the door longer than necessary.

"...I'll call you later."