Amelia checked her phone again.
It was the third time in less than an hour, and she already knew exactly what she would find before the screen even flickered to life. Still, she clung to that small, unreasonable hope that lived in the center of her chest—the hope that something would be different this time.
Nothing.
No message from Leo. No soft "good morning." No playful use of the word "coach" that usually made her smile without her even trying. Just silence.
It was the kind of silence that didn’t scream or accuse; it simply existed. It was heavy, still, and impenetrable—a blank wall she didn’t know how to climb.
She told herself not to overthink it. Leo had said he would call, and Leo always did what he said. Maybe he had slept late. Maybe something had come up with his family.
