EMMALINE
I stir, the sound of birds faint outside the window, and rub at my eyes as sunlight streaks through the slits in the curtains. Warm beams dance across the walls, bathing the room in a soft glow that tells me it’s already late in the morning.
I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to sleep in this long. For once, my body had given in, too exhausted to fight against rest.
The blanket is wrapped tightly around me, soft and fuzzy, cocooning me like a child tucked into bed. For a moment, I just stay there, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as fragments of last night flicker through my mind. The ache between my thighs is the first reminder—raw and unmistakable.
My muscles feel heavy, used, but not in a way I regret. My cheeks warm as I shift on the mattress.
I turn, ha
