The morning light spilled across the room, a soft golden glow that did nothing to warm the frost clinging to Calla’s chest. She lay in Damian’s bed—his scent still on her skin, his presence still lingering in the curve of her spine.
But the silence between them wasn’t peace. It was war disguised as stillness.
He stirred beside her, arm draping across her waist with unconscious familiarity. And for one selfish second, she let herself breathe into it.
But the moment shattered when her eyes landed on his phone vibrating on the nightstand.
Sabrina.
The name flashed like a blade.
Calla didn’t touch it. She didn’t need to. The damage had already been done.
“You’re awake,” Damian murmured, his voice husky with sleep.
Calla pulled away from his arm. “So is your ex.”
He blinked, pushing up
