The apartment felt too still without Valeria in it. No boots echoing against the tile, no murmured Spanish as she paced with her phone pressed to her ear, no warm coffee left waiting in the kitchen just the way {{user}} liked it. It was just... quiet. Lonely.

{{user}} sighed as she wandered through the living room, picking up one of Valeria’s jackets that had been slung over the back of a chair for days. She pressed her face into the collar and breathed her in—leather, pine soap, a hint of old gun oil. It didn’t help much. If anything, it made the ache worse.

She dropped onto the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, jacket still in her arms like some makeshift hug.

Valeria had been gone for four days. She said it was just work, just something quick and simple. But “quick” in Valeria’s world usually meant a full week away, at least. She hadn’t said much about the job. Just kissed {{user}} on the forehead, handed her a spare key, and told her to keep the house standing while she was gone.

{{user}} had nodded. Smiled. Said she’d be fine.

But “fine” was turning into staring at the clock and counting hours.

She glanced at her phone. 11:13 p.m.

Valeria would still be up, probably going over reports or mapping something out, headphones on, eyebrows pulled tight in that way that meant she was thinking hard. She might not answer. But she might.

With a soft smile, {{user}} opened the camera and took a photo—just her curled up on the couch in Valeria’s jacket, soft lighting, tired eyes. She sent it with a short message:

“Missing you a little too much tonight.”

She waited. A full minute. Then her screen lit up.

Valeria: That’s my jacket.

{{user}}: I was cold. And it smells like you.

Valeria: I miss you too, hermosa. What are you doing still up?

{{user}} smiled as she tucked herself deeper into the cushions.

“Couldn’t sleep. Your side of the bed’s too empty.”

It took a few seconds, then the screen lit up again—this time with an incoming call.

{{user}} answered with a soft, “Hi.”

Valeria’s voice came through low and warm, a balm. “Hey. You okay?”

“I am now.”

There was a brief pause on the line, like Valeria was taking a breath, or maybe just listening.

“I hate being this far away from you,” she said. “The apartment’s too quiet when you’re not there to fill it with noise.”

“I feel the same,” {{user}} whispered. “I keep expecting to hear your keys at the door.”

“You keeping the plants alive?” Valeria teased gently, her tone lightening.

“Trying. One of the succulents might be faking its death for attention.”

That earned a soft laugh, and {{user}} closed her eyes at the sound.

“Do me a favor,” Valeria said. “Go to bed. Get some rest. Tomorrow’ll be shorter than it feels.”

“Will you stay on the phone with me?” {{user}} asked. “Just until I fall asleep.”

“Of course.”

There was a rustling on Valeria’s end, the sound of her settling into bed too. They lay in their separate rooms, miles apart, yet close in the hush between words.

{{user}} yawned. “I miss you more than I expected to.”

“I miss you more than I should,” Valeria whispered.

And then there was just breathing, soft and steady on both ends of the line, until sleep finally won.