[Hazel]
What kind of sane woman wouldn’t want to wake up beside the hottest man they’ve ever met and just… stare at his face like it’s the kind of masterpiece the Louvre would lock behind bulletproof glass?
What kind of sane woman wouldn’t want him to stir awake with a lazy, adoring smile, wrap his arms around her waist, and pull her closer with that quiet morning possessiveness that says mine without needing a single word?
Exactly. Every kind. Including me.
But no. Not me. Not today. Because fate? Fate’s a bitter, petty ex-girlfriend.
It was 8 a.m., and I was six kilometers away from the man I was supposed to be waking up next to—thanks to Elisabeth and her infamous wedding planner who ghosted the entire event like a Netflix villain.
I was currently standing in front of Morrone Wali
