Malem’s POV
105
The morning after, sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting warm streaks across the bed. Yannick was still asleep beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his breathing deep and even. I lay there quietly, watching him, memorizing the peace on his face. For the first time in a long while, I felt anchored. Safe.
But peace never seemed to last long for me.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it carefully, not wanting to wake him. The moment I saw the name on the screen, my heart stuttered.
Michael.
My fingers trembled as I unlocked the phone. The message was short, almost harmless in appearance.
“So this is how you move on? Thought we had something worth fighting for.”
A hollow ache settled in my chest. He hadn’t listened—not at the café, not when
