That evening, instead of Rowan, Damian came to pick Lyra up from work and told her that Rowan wouldn't be home for dinner.
By the time the clock slipped past midnight, Rowan still hadn't come home.
Lyra let out a long breath, tossing and turning across the mattress.
Unable to close her eyes, she grabbed her phone and called him repeatedly. But every call went unanswered, and the silence only sharpened her irritation.
She was certain Rowan was pulling the same moody stunt again.
Finally, with her patience wearing thin, she called Damian.
"Hello, Madam."
"Damian… where is Rowan?" Her voice was tight.
"I'm already at home. Uh… boss isn't home yet?"
Damian stumbled over his words, struggling to push the lie out.
"Really? He's not with you?" Lyra frowned, uneasy at the thought of Rowan being out alone.
"I'm sure he'll come home, maybe just a bit late."
"Fine. I'll wait."
She ended the call, though unease lingered in her chest.
