The apartment felt different without him.
Luca stood in the doorway for a moment after returning, keys still in his hand, the echo of the closing door settling into silence that felt too loud.
The morning light had softened into afternoon gray, and the space—*their* space—suddenly felt too big, too quiet, too empty.
He exhaled slowly, setting his keys on the counter with a soft clink that seemed to echo.
The cat appeared from the bedroom, tail high, moving toward him with that unhurried grace cats always seemed to carry.
It wound around his ankles once, twice, then sat and looked up at him expectantly with knowing eyes.
Luca stared back, crouching down to scratch behind its ears. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "I know. He's gone. Just for a week though. We can handle a week, right?"
The cat blinked slowly, leaning into his touch.
Luca moved to the couch, sinking into it with a heaviness he hadn't expected.
