The keys are cold in your hand. You've been on your feet all day, covering for someone, probably, and the one thing keeping you going was the idea of a quiet evening. Then Ryan's text hit at 2 PM: 'can we talk tonight?' Nothing else. No emoji, no follow-up, no context. That's the part that got you. Ryan always floods you with context. He narrates everything. Silence from him means something is sitting heavy. There was also a package this morning. You half-noticed it when you left. It's gone now - tucked away somewhere before you could ask. You stand at the door and turn the key.