By Sunday morning, Aria felt much better.
Not completely fine, but enough to move around without feeling like her body was dragging behind her. The fever had gone down, her head wasn’t spinning anymore, and her energy was slowly coming back.
But something else had replaced the weakness.
Embarrassment.
She sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her hands, her mind replaying everything from the day before.
Every single thing.
The way she had held onto him.
The way she refused to let him go.
The way she had practically curled into him like she needed him to breathe.
Her face burned.
“What was wrong with me…” she muttered under her breath.
That wasn’t her.
She wasn’t clingy.
She wasn’t soft like that.
She definitely wasn’t the kind of person who begged someone to stay.
And yet—
