The next morning, when Alicia woke up, Tyrone was already gone.
The spot beside her on the bed was cold—he must have left a while ago.
Her back and hips ached as she got up, and for a second, Alicia wondered if she'd been hit by a car the night before.
She peeked carefully into the living room. Tyrone wasn't there… and there was no breakfast waiting, either.
A quiet sense of disappointment crept in.
Tyrone was always so thoughtful. Whenever they were together, he'd have breakfast ready and wait for her so they could eat together.
But today, nothing.
Alicia washed up, her mind buzzing with worry. Had she done something last night to upset him?
Click.
The front door opened, and Tyrone walked in, dressed in workout clothes and still a little flushed from exercise.
Alicia set down her toothbrush and rinsed her mouth. Before she could say a word, Tyrone cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
She blinked at him, a little dazed. He seemed to be in a brooding mood.
"You're up early," he said finally, releasing her after what felt like an eternity.
"You… went to the gym?" Alicia couldn't hide her admiration. Tyrone was nothing if not disciplined.
"Went out to have a fistfight with your ex," he said, his tone light and teasing, but there was a seriousness underneath.
Alicia stared at him in shock, and only then noticed the small cut at the corner of his mouth. "You got in a fight?"
"Rabid dog, snapping at people first thing in the morning," Tyrone replied coolly.
Alicia took a deep breath. He'd fought with Vincent… What a scene she'd missed—what a shame.
Tyrone ruffled her hair, the gesture so natural it felt like he was petting a dog.
She shot him a wounded look and muttered, "He had no right to hit you. He should be the one apologizing."
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