Lena’s POV
The couch cushions swallow me as I sink deeper, the bandage around my ankle tight but soothing, like a promise that the pain will fade if I just stay still. Sebastian’s words echo in the quiet apartment—Take care of yourself—gruff, almost tender, before he walked out without another glance. The door clicked shut twenty minutes ago, but I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers were careful yet commanding as he wrapped the bandage. My pulse hasn’t settled since.
I stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster mocking me with its ugly patterns, and try to process the day. My phone buzzes on the coffee table, jolting me out of my spiral. Avery’s name lights up the screen, and relief floods me.
Finally. I’ve been texting her all day—about Tessa, Sienna
