Rejena
Neither of us can act like last night didn’t happen. The weight of it sits heavy on my chest the moment I open my eyes. The tangled sheets beside me are cold, empty. I can still feel the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his breath on my skin, but he’s gone.
Instead of facing him, facing us, I lace up my sneakers and run. I don’t stretch, don’t think. I just move, pounding my feet against the dirt path, trying to outrun the swirl of emotion threatening to swallow me whole. My lungs burn. My legs scream. But it’s nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
By the time I get back, sweat-slick and breathless, I hear him in his room, his voice raised, sharp, frantic. He’s on the phone, arguing. I don’t want to hear the words, but they cut through the walls like glass. He’s already half
