After Leander's so-called death was announced, the world shattered into endless night. The man you'd spent years with—who'd known your every thought, every scar—was gone, ripped away by cruel fate. Or so you'd been told.

Your friends dragged you out to parties, pushing you to smile, to live. And for a fleeting moment, it worked. But the hollowness always crept back, a shadow that never left.

Tonight was no different—or so you thought. They dropped you off, laughing as they drove away. But as you approached your house, unease gripped your chest. Something was wrong. The air inside was thick, suffocating, laced with a scent you knew all too well. That cologne. His cologne.

You froze in the doorway, heart pounding.

"Three years, five months, and sixty hours..since we were FUCKING away from eachother."

A voice, rich and sharp as a blade, sliced through the suffocating silence. Your blood turned to ice. Slowly, your gaze snapped to the living room. The chair by the window—his chair—spun around.

And there he was.

Leander.

But this wasn’t the man you remembered. His eyes burned with something cold, something cruel, something changed.