The night Natalia decided to end it didn't feel cinematic. No rain hammering against the windows. No dramatic swell of violins mourning the collapse of a decade.

Just the soft hum of Atlanta outside. And the faint buzz of the fridge - ordinary, domestic sounds. The kind that shouldn't soundtrack the end of a ten-year relationship.

Richard's condo sat fifty floors above the city, as if altitude itself proved importance. The skyline glittered below them like a jewelry case - beautiful, distant, untouchable. He loved that view. He'd once told her he enjoyed "seeing what he owned from up high.