At dawn, Amanda watched silently from the bedroom window as her husband's black sedan disappeared down the street, heading for another week-long business trip. The soft click of the front door closing felt like the final note in a familiar, lonely symphony.

By nine PM, the silence had become suffocating.

No text. No call. Not even a quick 'landed safely' message. But then again, why would there be? He'd stopped caring about her peace of mind years ago.

Minutes later, she found herself standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a silk slip with a thin cardigan draped over her shoulders, a mask concealing the flush in her cheeks. Her fingers trembled slightly as she entered the code to the apartment next door.

Beep–!