Timothy pushed open the door to his home, the familiar creak echoing through the hallway. The house was dimly lit. A stark contrast to the tension that seemed to hang in the air.

He noticed Angela sitting at the dining table, her fingers nervously tapping on the wood. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and she offered a weak smile.

"Hey, Tim," she greeted, but her voice lacked its usual

"Hey, Angela," Timothy replied, concern etching his features. He made his way to the living room and sank into the couch, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him.

He pulled out his phone and stared at...