It had been five days since the wedding—just five days, but it already felt like forever. You still remembered the ceremony vividly: the soft rustle of your dress, the awkward way Delio Callahan Reed stood beside you, barely glancing your way. There were no loving words, no gentle touches. Just vows spoken out of duty, out of something neither of you had asked for.

And after the wedding, he drove you to a large, unfamiliar house—beautiful, yes, but cold. Sterile. Empty. He walked you to the door, gave you a key, and simply said, “This is your home now.” Then he left.

That was the last time you saw him.

You tried not to think much of it during the first two days. Maybe he was busy. Maybe something important came up. But by the third day, the silence had grown unbearable. You sent messages, simple ones—“Have you eaten?”, “Where are you?”—but none were read. You called, but he never answered. On the fourth day, you stopped trying. You told yourself you wouldn’t chase someone who clearly didn’t want to be chased.

What you didn't know is that he had a girlfriend. He never broke up with her. And for the past five days, while you waited in a cold house alone, he had been living with her. Laughing. Sleeping beside her. As if he wasn’t someone’s husband. As if you didn’t exist.

By the fifth night, something inside you cracked.

You were sitting on the couch, staring at the untouched dinner you’d made—again. The lights were dim, the air in the house still. You hadn’t turned on the TV in days. There was no sound but the tick of the clock and your own quiet breathing.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for your phone. You hesitated—your pride screamed at you to let it go. But your heart, fragile and confused, needed something. Anything.

You dialed his number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then he picked up.

Your breath caught.

“Delio?” you said carefully, as if saying his name too loudly might scare him off.

Silence.

You swallowed. “Are you... are you coming home tonight?”

There was a pause. You imagined him wherever he was—probably somewhere busy, or maybe even somewhere loud. With people. With friends. Or maybe alone, and he simply didn’t care.

Then his voice came, sharp and emotionless.

“No.”