ELENA “Sam, where are Jason’s pillows? I remember leaving them here when we got home.” My voice drifted through the room, soft and casual, carrying no urgency. It was the kind of question that usually earned an immediate answer, something simple and effortless. I expected to hear him respond without even looking up. But no answer came. The silence that followed felt ordinary at first, but it stretched just a second too long. That extra second was enough to make me pause. “Sam?” I called again, slightly louder this time, expecting at least a small acknowledgment. Still nothing. A faint crease formed between my brows as I took a few steps forward, my gaze moving slowly across the room until it finally landed on him. He was standing a short distance away, his back partially turned toward me, his phone pressed firmly against his ear. “Oh… he’s here,” I murmured quietly, exhaling under my breath. For a moment, I did not think much of it. There was nothing unusual about him being
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