Aria's POV
I woke up—same side of the bed, same cold spot where he should have been. Five years of mornings, and they all felt exactly the same.
The armchair in the corner caught my eye. Someone had sat there. Long enough to leave an impression.
I looked at it.
Then I looked away.
Don't, I told myself. Don't do that.
The fever had burned itself out overnight. Still there—that dull heat behind my eyes, that ache deep in my bones—but the worst was over.
I sat up, and the room didn't spin. Progress.
Amy came in, carrying a bowl of pumpkin porridge.
"Luna, you had a fever last night after drinking. This should help you feel better."
"Thank you, Amy. I appreciate it."
"No need to thank me! If anyone deserves thanks, it's—Alpha! Are you heading out?" She stopped mid-sentence, spoon in
