The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting gold across the hardwood floor. Amelia stirred first, the weight of Enzo’s arm still heavy across her waist. For a second, just a second, she let herself pretend it was normal. That he was normal. That they were.
But then she remembered.
The door crashing open. The look in his eyes. The way he dragged her into this bed like she was a piece of him he couldn’t live without—but also wouldn’t explain.
She peeled his arm off her slowly, careful not to wake him. Enzo never looked peaceful—not even in sleep. His brows remained furrowed, jaw tight like he was dreaming of war. Maybe he was. Maybe he always did.
Slipping out of bed, she padded into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Her reflection stared back at her, hair a mess
