I died.
Right there in my living room. Full-body shutdown. Knees gone. Brain offline. My soul just... checked out.
The bracelet box slipped from my hands and hit the floor with the soft, smug thud of luxury.
From Ryan.
It was like a bomb went off and instead of debris, it rained diamonds and emotional trauma.
I collapsed sideways, limbs sprawled like a fallen Greek tragedy, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to my ruined life.
And then I shot upright.
“JYNELLE!”
No answer.
I stumbled down the hallway like a drunk Victorian ghost and banged on her door like the FBI.
“JYNELLE! GET OUT OF YOUR MOLE-INFESTED RABBIT-HOLE OF A ROOM BEFORE I SELF-COMBUST!”
Silence.
The door creaked open.
Empty. No Jynelle. No sarcastic comments. Just the faint scent of rosewater and secr
