few seconds, I did not understand where I was.
The hotel room was too quiet. The curtains were half closed, the morning light was pale, and the space beside me in the bed was empty.
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Adrian was gone.
No goodbye.
No note on the mirror.
No sound from the bathroom.
Nothing.
At first, I tried to calm myself.
Maybe he had gone downstairs for coffee.
Maybe he had stepped out to take a call.
Maybe this was normal for a man like him.
Then I saw the envelope on the pillow.
It was white.
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Neatly placed.
My name was written across the front in careful black letters.
Margaret.
My heart tightened.
For one foolish second, I thought it might be a goodbye note. Maybe even something sweet. Something kind. Something that would let me keep the night as a memory instead of a mistake.
