He sat in his living room with a phone that wouldn’t ring. Outside, dawn crept across the skyline in shades of gray. He watched it without seeing, his body hollowed out, his hands wrapped around a mug that had gone cold hours ago.
The framed Oath sat on his study desk where she had left it. Every mistake he had made since college, behind glass and wood where anyone who walked in could see.
By four in the morning, he had called three times and texted twelve. Each message more desperate than the last.
Gabriel: Tessa please.
Gabriel: Just let me explain.
Gabriel: I love you. That’s real. The Oath doesn’t change that.
Silence.
At six, he gave up pretending he might sleep and made a pot of coffee he couldn’t taste. At seven, he tried calling again. At eight, he accepted that she wasn’t going to answer.
Her mug still sat on the counter. Her sweater hung over the dining chair. The apartment felt wrong in all the places she had made it right.
The group chat lit up at nine.
Ronan: Breakfast? Usual place?
Gabriel stared at the message. He typed, deleted, typed again.
Gabriel: Can’t. Sick.
Knox: You’re never sick.
Ronan: What’s wrong?
Gabriel: Nothing. Need to sleep it off.
A pause.
Knox: What happened?
Ronan: Gabriel.
He watched the cursor blink. The lie felt heavy in his fingers. The truth was heavier.
Gabriel: Tessa left.
Two seconds.
Ronan: We’ll be there in ten.
Knox: Fifteen. I’m further out.
He set the phone aside. He should tell them not to come. He didn’t want to be alone.
Ronan arrived first, letting himself in with the spare key Gabriel had given him months ago. Knox showed up fifteen minutes later with coffee and a bag from the bakery down the street.
“You look terrible,” Knox said by way of greeting.
“Thank you.”
“When did you last sleep?”
“I didn’t.”
