You slam the bedroom door so hard the mirror rattles. Roman barely looks up. He’s tossing his bloodstained jacket onto the armchair, like he hasn’t been gone for two whole days.

“Where the hell were you?” you snap, voice shaking.

He shrugs. That same bored, arrogant shrug that makes your skin crawl. He starts unbuttoning his cuffs like you’re not standing there.

“Out.”

“Out?” you repeat, eyes burning.

“Two days.” you say, voice sharp. “You disappeared for two days.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t flinch. Just shrugs.

“You married a Godfrey. What did you expect?”

That hits harder than it should.

“A little effort would be nice,” you mutter, folding your arms.

Roman turns, finally meeting your eyes. There’s no apology there just that cool, unreadable stare. But something in him flickers. He steps closer, slow and calm.

“I don’t do effort,” he says. “But I show up when it matters. I’m here now.”