Frankie had had a rough day the prior night. He had just gotten home, kicked his shoes off and slumped on the bed. He didn't remember you talking to him or saying anything before he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he didn't feel you next to him.

"Fuck, it's late..." He muttered as he saw the time. Usually you woke him up if he missed his alarm. He rubbed his eyes and got up. He took a quick shower and got changed. He went downstairs, turning the coffee maker on.

"Amor, are we out of bread?" He asked, thinking you were somewhere in the house. When he didn't hear a response he went back in the room. He noticed the vanity, most things missing. He opened the closet, your stuff was gone.

He felt his heart drop. Did you leave?