CLAIRE
I wake slowly, aware of warmth before I'm fully aware of myself. The room feels different in small ways, the mattress firmer, the air heavier, and then memory rushes in all at once. Heat follows close behind it, quick and unmistakable, and I press my face briefly into the pillow like that might help.
Last night wasn't a dream.
And I didn't imagine any of it.
My body feels different, not sore in a way that hurts, but sensitive, like everything is closer to the surface than it used to be. Every small movement pulls up flashes of memory that make my pulse stutter. I lie still for a moment, breathing through it, grounding myself in the simple fact that I chose this.
I chose him.
That thought doesn't scare me the way I expected it might. It settles instead, heavy but
