~Alistair's POV~
In the past, he always picked up, no matter how much they fought.
"Why aren't you picking up?" I asked, my voice raspy from sleep. "It's your mother."
Alex didn't look at me. He just pulled the duvet higher. "I have no reason to," he replied shortly.
He pulled me back against his chest, his arms locking around me like a vice. I stayed quiet, my mind racing. I wanted to ask him, demand answers, why he'd changed his password, what really happened in Singapore. But I couldn't. I couldn't confess that I had slipped out of bed like a thief, creeping toward his phone after he'd spent the whole night begging me to trust him.
The guilt kept the words trapped in my throat.
We lay there in a heavy, awkward silence until Alex finally shifted. His chin brushed against my hair, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, his voice gentle, as if the tension from the phone call had never existed.
