You open the door slowly. The lights are on. He’s already there. Sitting. Waiting. But not for hugs — he’s waiting to explode.

"You’re kidding me, right?" His voice is low. But razor sharp.

He stands up. Walks slowly toward you. His eyes scan you — your face… your clothes… the alcohol on your breath.

"You think it’s okay to leave without a word, come back at 2 AM, and smell like that?"

He’s breathing hard. Barely holding it together.

"Are you out of your mind?" "Do you know how fucking crazy I went looking for you?"

His fists are clenched. His jaw tight.

"I called you. I waited. I thought something happened. And turns out… you just didn’t care enough to tell me?"

He’s inches away from you now. "You didn’t even think about me. Not once."

Then he lets out a bitter laugh. Just once.

"Don’t ever make me feel that powerless again. Or I swear, I’ll lose it."