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"You’re really in study beast mode tonight," he jokes, trying to cut the tension with a smile.

"The bar isn’t going to pass itself."

He walks over and kneels next to my chair, resting a hand on my knee. "How about kiss hello? I missed you.”

When he leans in to kiss me, I turn, pretend I’m reaching for my pen.

The moment passes. Awkwardly.

He says nothing, but I can feel it: the confusion, the quiet disappointment.

Still, he doesn’t push.

And I can’t concentrate.

My mind is a spinning reel of social media comments, Allison’s voice, the blonde in the photo, and the way that woman at the meet-and-greet looked at me like I was temporary.

Like I was irrelevant.

I stare at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes.

After one hour, I pack up and try to leave.

Nate is at the kitchen table going through mail. "You done already?"

"Yeah. I should get back. Early start tomorrow."

"You sure? We’ve barely…"

"I just need to be in my own space tonight."

He stands, watching as I zip my bag. "Okay. Want me to carry your bag over?"

I shake my head. "It’s fine."

I sling the strap over my shoulder, move toward the door.

"Night, Mandy."

"Goodnight."

No kiss. No hug.

He stays in the doorway as I walk down the hall.

I close the door behind me, press my back to it, and exhale shakily.

I don’t know if I’m overreacting... or waking up.

Twenty minutes later, my phone lights up with Nate’s name. I hesitate, but answer.

"Hey," I say quietly.

"You in your room?"

"Yeah."

There’s a pause. Then, more gently, "Are you okay?"