ISABELLA
I didn’t sleep last night.
Not even for a second.
The sheets were cool on Christian’s side of the bed, a reminder that he never came back. That when he left for the shower, he didn’t return.
I spent the night staring at the ceiling, my body aching—not just from my injuries, but from the absence of him.
I had been so close to falling asleep in his arms, so close to feeling like we were something again. But then he had pulled away, his self-control outweighing whatever we had ignited between us.
I didn’t regret it.
I didn’t regret the way I had leaned in, the way he had kissed me like he needed me as much as I needed him.
But I was starting to think that he did.
Because Christian hadn’t come back.
And now, as the morning sun filtered into the room, its golden light spilli
