Waking up on the morning of New Year’s Eve brought an entirely new kind of anticipation. The first moments of awareness were charged, my body immediately tingling with the promise of the evening to come. It was a promise filled with the thought of Em—finally having her close again, within reach, where she belonged. The energy coursing through me was electric, making it impossible to linger lazily in bed like I might on any other day.
The shower became a ritual, a slow, deliberate preparation for what I hoped would be a perfect night. I was unusually meticulous, carefully washing my hair, ensuring every strand was cleansed and shining. My hands worked methodically, scrubbing every inch of my body, determined to be nothing short of flawless. The steam from the water filled the room, fogging
