The alarm rang at 5:30 AM.
She turned it off before it could ring a second time.
For a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling. The other side of the bed was empty. Cold.
He hadn't come back.
She sat up slowly and pushed the blanket aside.
There was no message.
No missed call.
Nothing.
By 6:15, she was already dressed.
Simple blouse. Dark skirt. Hair tied neatly.
Everything about her was clean, orderly… controlled.
Unlike the quiet mess inside her chest.
The bus was crowded, as always.
She stood near the window, holding onto the rail as the city moved past in blurred motion.
People talked. Laughed. Complained.
Life went on.
When she arrived at the café, the smell of coffee greeted her before the door even closed behind her.
"You're early again," her coworker said, tying her apron.
She gave a small nod. "There was no traffic."
"That's rare."
"Mm."
Work was steady.
Orders. Cleaning. Serving.
Repeat.
She moved through it all without pause, without complaint.
Like she always did.
"Table three!"
"I'll take it."
She picked up the tray and walked over.
"Your order—"
Her voice paused for just a second.
A man sat alone at the table.
Black coat. Calm posture.
His eyes lifted to meet hers.
For a moment—
Something felt… strange.
Like he had been looking at her before she even arrived.
"Your coffee," she finished quietly, placing the cup down.
"Thank you."
His voice was low. Polite.
Nothing unusual.
Still…
She turned to leave, but something made her glance back.
He was no longer looking at the coffee.
He was looking at her.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
Then she looked away and returned to work.
By afternoon, he was still there.
Same seat.
Same calm expression.
Another cup of coffee.
"You've got a regular," her coworker whispered with a grin. "He's been here all day."
"Probably just working."
"Or watching."
She didn't respond.
When her shift finally ended, the sky had already darkened.
She untied her apron and stepped outside, exhaling softly.
Her feet ached.
But she was used to that.
The streets were quieter at night.
She walked at her usual pace, eyes forward.
Unaware of the footsteps behind her.
Not too close.
Not too far.
At the apartment, the lights were off.
She hesitated before opening the door.
For a brief second—
She wondered if he had come back.
But inside…
It was silent.
Just like before.
She placed her bag down and walked to the kitchen.
The dishes from last night were still there.
Untouched.
Her hands moved automatically.
Washing. Drying. Putting everything back in place.
Behind her, her phone buzzed.
She turned quickly this time.
A message.
From him.
"I won't be home tonight."
She stared at the screen.
Then slowly typed:
"Okay."
Sent.
Seen.
No reply.
Her hand lowered.
The room felt a little colder.
Outside the building—
Across the street—
The same man stood under a dim streetlight.
His gaze fixed on her window.
The light in her apartment flickered on.
A shadow moved behind the curtains.
He watched in silence.
"…Still alone," he murmured.
Then, after a moment—
He turned and walked away.
As The night swallowed his figure whole.