He frowned, his gaze sweeping across the room.
Only then did he notice the suitcases. The empty shelves. The missing pieces.
"Don't tell me you've been busy tearing down the house," he said, irritation creeping into his tone. "You just got out of the clinic. You should be resting."
His eyes landed on a few unopened boxes I hadn't gotten to yet.
Inside were the couple items I had bought recently. Still new. Still unused.
"You don't want any of this?" he asked.
I bent down to pick one up.
Before I could even straighten, he reached out and took it from my hands.
"Fine, I'll throw them out for you," he said, almost impatiently. "But stop wasting money on useless stuff. What, do you think money grows on trees?"
His tone was casual.
Indifferent.
Like none of this mattered.
Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he added, "Go change. I'll take you out to eat."
Like this was just another normal day.
Like nothing was ending.
Instead, I walked out to the balcony.
From there, I watched him.
He carried the boxes downstairs and walked straight to the dumpster behind the building, past the black sedan idling at the curb where one of his soldiers sat waiting with the engine running.
No hesitation.