(Danica)
Morning light crept through the blinds like it was hesitant to face what the day would bring.
I woke slowly, still wrapped in the ghost of Caleb’s arms even though he had slipped back to his room hours earlier. The bed felt too empty without him, the sheets still carrying the faint scent of his skin. My ribs ached with every breath, the bruises a stubborn map of Kane’s hits, but the deeper ache lived in my chest — in the memory of his whispered confessions, the careful way he held me, and the new complication of Kane’s midnight messages still glowing on my phone.
I picked up the device, screen lighting up with the unread texts.
Kane: I know this is weird. But I can’t stop thinking about how you looked when you almost fell. The way you caught yourself. The way you kept fighting
