HIS ROOMMATE

A QUIET DEVASTATION

CHAPTER 36

ADRIAN'S POV

Two days.

Two days since I walked out of her apartment. Two days since “take care of yourself, okay?” left my mouth like I was dismissing a meeting, not the woman who slept in my arms.

I haven’t called. Haven’t texted. Haven’t gone to her door.

The worst part isn’t the silence on my end. It’s the silence on hers. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing.

Maybe that’s what she wants. Space. Air. A way out that doesn’t look like me begging her to stay.

After Valerie, Kai was the one who stayed. She brought coffee I didn’t drink. She sat in quiet I couldn’t fill. She made sure I was still here when I wasn’t sure I wanted to be. She never asked for anything.

So I won’t ask for anything either.

I won’t hold her back. I won’t make her pick between me and the plane ticket she’s had circled since she was a kid. Between “always” and Melbourne. Between me and the life she built with her own hands.

If goodbye is what she needs to reach her dream, then goodbye is what I’ll give her.

That’s what love does, right? It steps aside.

But my office feels too big at night. My phone feels too heavy. Her name sits in my recent calls and my thumb hovers there every hour like it’s forgotten how to move.

I tell myself this is right. That letting her go is the last thing I can do for her.

Two days. And every one of them feels longer than the last.

The next morning I got dressed in silence. Suit, tie, cufflinks. The armor went on one piece at a time, like it always did.

Downstairs, Mrs. Chen was already at the counter. She didn’t say good morning. She just slid a mug across to me. Coffee, black, too strong. The kind she only made when she knew I hadn’t slept.

I took a sip. It burned. I welcomed it.

“Eat,” she said, pushing toast toward me.

“Don’t have time,” I lied. I had time. I just didn’t have the patience for food, for small talk, for pretending I was fine.

I grabbed my briefcase and headed out before she could ask the question I saw in her eyes: *Have you called her yet?*

The city was moving fast outside. Cars, horns, people with places to be. I had two places today. One I wanted to be at. One I’d do anything to avoid.

First: the office. 10am. Boardroom. Investors from Singapore, lawyers, charts that decided the next hundred million. A merger Mr George had bled for six months to close, now it up to me. Important. Urgent. The kind of meeting that was supposed to make me feel alive.

Second: family dinner at 8pm.

My uncles and their families. The whole table. Marcus will be there too, sitting across from me like the last two to three months didn’t happen. Like he didn’t gut me and walk away clean.

The only reason I’m going is my grandmother. She asked. And when she asks, I don’t say no. Not after my parents.

I haven’t sat at that table since the funeral. Haven’t had to pretend I’m fine while passing the rice and listening to “we just want you to be happy” from people who never called when I wasn’t.

But first: the office.

I checked my phone in the elevator. 62 unread emails. Board memos. Legal updates. Press releases. Zero texts. Zero calls.

Her name wasn’t there. It hadn’t been for two days.

I told myself that was good. That was the point. Space. Freedom. No one holding her back from Melbourne. No one making Jan 15 harder than it already was.

The doors opened on the 42nd floor. Cold light hit the glass walls. The smell of money and recycled air. My assistant was waiting.

“Mr. Reyes. Conference Room A. Tanaka’s team arrived early.”

“Coffee. Black,” I said, walking past. CEO voice. Empty voice. The one I use when I don’t want anyone to hear what I’m actually thinking.

I pushed through the double doors and twelve people stood. Suits. Smiles. Handshakes that meant nothing.

“Adrian.” “Good to see you.” “Ready to close this?”

I nodded. Took the seat at the head of the table. Laid the contracts out like a wall. Paper between me and everything I didn’t want to feel.

Tanaka started. Slides clicked. Revenue. Projections. Exit strategies. Market risk. I asked the right questions. Cut where I needed to cut. Signed where I needed to sign. The man they paid me to be.

But under the table, my hand kept finding my phone. Screen dark. No notifications. No light.

Someone said “long-term value” and I heard her at 3am instead. Breathing my name like a prayer. *Yes.*

Someone slid a pen across the table and I saw her handwriting. Not on a contract. On a lease agreement. Melbourne. Jan 15. The date I wasn’t supposed to know yet.

“Mr. Reyes? Your thoughts on the KPI forecast?”

I blinked. Looked up. For a second the boardroom blurred.

“Run it again,” I said. Voice steady. “Q3 projections separate from Q4. I want to see the bleed.”

They ran it again. Numbers filled the screen. I nodded. Asked three more questions. Voted yes when it mattered. Shook every hand when it ended.

“Excellent work, Adrian,” Tanaka said. Clap on my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I said. Smile in place. Shoulders straight. The man everyone expected me to be.

Only when the last chair scraped back and the doors closed did I let myself breathe. Only then did I pick up my phone.

Still nothing.

I stood. Straightened my tie. Looked at my reflection in the glass. Adrian Reyes. CEO. Son. The man who always shows up.

Six hours until dinner. Six hours of being him before I had to be theirs.

Six hours of trying not to think about the girl who made me forget meetings, mergers, and my own name existed.

Six hours of pretending I didn’t check my phone one more time before the elevator came.

The doors slid shut. 42nd floor to ground floor. 18 seconds. I counted.

My thumb unlocked the phone. Wallpaper: Kai, asleep on my couch, hair over her face.

I took it the morning after she brought me coffee I didn’t drink. Told myself it was for blackmail.

I locked the screen before the doors opened.

The garage was cold. My driver held the door.

“Home, Mr. Reyes?”

I almost said yes. Home had her toothbrush in my bathroom. Jan 15 circled on my fridge in red pen.

“Grandmother’s house ,” I said instead. CEO voice. Steady.

Traffic was bad. Good. More time before I had to face Marcus.

My phone buzzed. Calendar reminder. **Jan 15. Melbourne. Flight 9:40am.**

I put that there two days ago. Before I walked out of her apartment. Before “take care of yourself, okay?”

I didn’t delete it. Just let it burn like Mrs. Chen’s coffee.

The car stopped. In front of my grandparents mansion. It's still as big as remembered it be. I took a deep breath and walked in. The foyer was exactly how I remembered it. Marble floor, the old oil painting of my grandfather over the fireplace, the smell of roast and rosemary drifting from the kitchen.

My uncles were already there with their wives and kids. Laughter bounced off the high ceilings. Normal family noise.

I hadn’t been in this house since the funeral. Manhattan had felt smaller every day since Kai said nothing.

“Adrian Reyes,” Grandma’s voice cut through the room.

She came out of the kitchen with a wide smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Old, but still sharp-eyed and still the one who insisted on cooking herself, even with three staff members on payroll.

“My baby boy, look at you,” she said, pulling me into a hug that smelled like her perfume and garlic.

For three seconds I forgot Valerie. Forgot the boardroom. Forgot that Kai’s plane to Melbourne was circled on Jan 15.

She pulled back and framed my face with both hands. “Too thin. You’re not sleeping, I can see it.”

“I’m fine, Grandma,” I said. CEO voice. The one I used in Tanaka’s meeting six hours ago.

She clicked her tongue.

“My boy doesn’t lie to me, Adrian. Not in my house.”

Her eyes were warm, but they saw too much. She didn’t know about Marcus. Didn’t know about the engagement betrayal three months ago, maybe she doesn't. To her, he was still my brother.

TBC