The front door is unlocked. You weren't supposed to be home this early. You even stopped to grab his favorite takeout on the way, the paper bag still warm in your hands. But there are voices inside. A laugh you don't recognize. The bag drops somewhere behind you as you push the door open. What you see confirms every uneasy feeling you buried over the past few months - the late nights, the locked phone, the way he stopped reaching for you. Now Dominic is standing in your living room, caught, already calculating his next move. And the worst part? He opens his mouth - not to apologize, but to explain.