Brielle’s POV
The world looked different when you started looking for something.
I didn’t sleep that night. I watched the shadows shift across my ceiling, listened to the distant hum of cars, the occasional creak of pipes settling into silence. Everything was loud in the quiet. Especially the questions. They hung in the air like smoke.
By morning, I felt hollowed out but alert. Like my body hadn’t rested, but my mind had become razor sharp. I dressed slowly, deliberately—jeans, a black sweater, my old boots that had started to c***k near the toe. I tied my hair back. No makeup. I didn’t want to hide behind anything today.
Gregory was in the kitchen, frying eggs. He didn’t look surprised to see me awake so early.
“You always wake up before storms,” he said, gesturing toward the window.
