Roy drove straight to Dianne’s apartment.
His chest felt heavy the entire ride — like guilt had wrapped itself around his ribs and refused to let go.
He hated that she left hurting.
He hated that she saw something he didn’t even know was happening.
He hated that he wasn’t there to explain.
And more than anything, he hated the empty silence on the other end of her phone.
When he pulled up in front of her building, he sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
“Please,” he whispered to himself.
“Just let her listen.”
He stepped out.
Walked out of his car.
Paused in front of her door.
His heart pounded like it was trying to escape his chest.
Then — he knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Inside, he heard faint footsteps… then silence.
