The first night in the apartment felt unreal.
Not romantic.
Not glamorous.
Unreal.
The walls were almost entirely glass. The city stretched endlessly below, glowing in layered light. Cars moved like silent currents. Other buildings stood tall and confident around us.
I felt exposed.
The space was too clean. Too minimal. Too intentional.
I stood near the window long after he left that evening. He had kissed me slowly before walking out, telling me he had meetings early in the morning.
“You need space tonight,” he had said.
And I was grateful.
Because space felt safer than expectation.
When I finally lay down in the unfamiliar bed, the silence was different from Briar Glen. There were no crickets. No distant trucks. Just a low hum of the city that never completely slept.
I barely
