Savannah could feel Theo’s hand on her face, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. He was looking at her—she knew it. But she refused to open her eyes, refused to let him see the war raging inside her.
Her mind drifted, caught in the undertow of memories she had been trying to suppress.
Her birthday.
What was meant to be a celebration had unraveled into something bitter and raw. That night had marked the beginning of an unraveling, a moment when the delicate thread of trust between them had begun to fray.
She had tried to talk to Theo about it, tried to confront him—but what was the point?
The moment Clover had called, he had left her. Left her on the night that was supposed to be hers.
Savannah had barely held herself together that evening, battling the exhaustion that came with he
