Brielle’s POV
The warmth of the restaurant lights still clung to Brielle's skin, but her soul had gone cold. She walked the quiet streets alone after dinner with Fiona and Sean, her mind spinning like a carousel of fragments—Sean’s possessive smile, Fiona’s twitching hands, the way her mother kept glancing at the exit like it was salvation. Something wasn’t right.
When Brielle returned to her apartment, she expected silence. Instead, she found Harry sitting on the steps of her building, hunched and pale beneath the flickering porch light.
She stopped short, heart sinking. His hair was a mess, curls hanging in his eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. A takeout bag sat at his feet, untouched. Her throat tightened.
“Harry?” she asked, uncertain.
He stood slowly, like every l
