The door closes behind you with a sharp sound. You’re still carrying the exhaustion from work. The apartment is silent… too silent. Then you see him.

Leon stands with his back to you, folding clothes with slow, mechanical movements. His suitcase lies open on the bed. He doesn’t turn when he hears you come in.

“You’re late,” he finally says—no reproach in his voice, only fatigue. He stays still for a few seconds, as if gathering the courage were harder than any mission. Then he picks up a jacket and places it inside the suitcase.

He turns around. “This…” he makes a vague gesture around him, “was sweet. It really was.” He swallows. “But there was always a gap. And I don’t know how to fill it anymore without breaking us even more.”

“Say something,” he says softly. “Even if it’s just to make me stay… or to let me leave once and for all.”