Melanie's POV
My mind was a complete blank as I picked up the glass shards one by one.
I kept my movements steady, though, like I was just cleaning up some everyday mess.
I headed to the breakroom and went through the motions of scrubbing the tray.
I really thought I didn't care anymore.
But that half-broken mating bond wasn't done with me yet.
The aftershocks of the tear didn't hit all at once; they came in waves, like a riptide pulling at my nerves, dragging me deeper with every pulse.
I didn't stop, though.
I just mechanically tossed the porcelain into the bin, grabbed a rag, and started wiping the coffee stains off the tray.
It wasn't until the dark liquid fully bled into the cloth that I paused and actually looked at my hands.
My fingertips, my palm, the webbing of my thumb—
