With a shaky hand, I dialed Leon's number. The phone rang twice before a woman answered.
"Hello?" Her voice was soft but unfamiliar, tinged with casual warmth. "Are you looking for Leon? He's in the shower right now. You can tell me if you need something…"
In the background, I heard Leon's voice, distant but clear enough, "Babe, no phones at this hour…"
I froze, feeling as though the world had stopped spinning. My hand trembled, my breath caught in my throat. I didn't wait to hear anything more. I hung up, my hand clenching the phone so hard it hurt. The sadness I'd been holding back burst forth, mingling with raw disbelief and anger.
For a few moments, I stood there in a daze, my mind struggling to process what I'd just heard. Then, almost without thinking, I began tearing through the apartment. Every photo, every reminder of our years together, I smashed or threw across the room. The picture frames shattered against the walls, glass scattering around me, but I didn't care. I was done being careful, done holding onto memories that now felt meaningless.