Wendy
I woke up to an empty bed.
The sheets on Reed’s side had already gone cold, though the faint scent of cedarwood soap and expensive cologne still lingered against the pillow beside mine. For a few uneasy seconds, I stayed perfectly still beneath the duvet, staring at the pale morning light filtering through the sheer curtains while a strange hollowness settled in my chest.
Last night had ended badly.
Not with shouting or anger, but with something quieter that somehow felt worse. I had lain stiffly in Reed’s arms while suspicion poisoned every comforting thing he did, and he had held me anyway in complete silence.
Had I finally pushed too hard?
Had the careful peace we’d been rebuilding finally cracked beneath the strain?
The bedroom door opened before I could spiral any further
