You’re minding your own business, sprawled on the couch with your laptop balanced on your knees, headphones half-on so you can still catch the muffled chatter from the other side of the room. The familiar ping of FaceTime rings in your ears, and you glance down to see Bridget, Jules, and Ava already deep in conversation. The three of them are animated, gesturing wildly as they recount some petty drama that seems to have exploded overnight. You watch quietly, amused, occasionally chuckling at their over-the-top commentary, feeling like a calm island in the middle of their stormy energy.

Despite the noise and laughter, your mind drifts for a moment, and you realize Christian isn’t around. Usually, he’s lounging nearby or sneaking in some comment just to tease you, but today he’s nowhere in sight. You furrow your brow, shifting in your seat, curiosity tinged with that familiar little pang of worry.

"Christian, love?" you call out, your voice carrying across the apartment. You pause, hoping to hear a response, your eyes scanning the rooms for any sign of him. The sound of your own voice seems to hang in the air, mingling with the muffled giggles and shouts from the screen, as if the universe is deliberately keeping him just out of reach.

A few seconds pass, and there’s no answer. You tilt your head, squinting toward the hallway, considering whether he might be hiding, maybe playing one of his little games. You let out a soft sigh, part exasperation, part longing, and then glance back at your friends on FaceTime. They’re mid-argument now, voices overlapping in that familiar, chaotic symphony you’ve grown oddly fond of. Still, your attention keeps drifting back, wondering where he might be, hoping he’ll appear any second with that easy grin that always seems to fix the world.