My head was pounding.
Not the dull, tolerable ache of dehydration or too little sleep—this was sharper, meaner. A punishment more than a symptom. Every sound felt louder than it should, every flicker of light brighter, like the world itself had decided to press its hands against my skull and squeeze.
I cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it.
Sunlight spilled through the curtains in a cruel, precise line, cutting across the floor like a blade. I was still in last night’s dress, my heels half-kicked off, one dangling at the edge of the bed. The fabric had ridden up around my thighs, twisted and wrinkled, clinging like the memory of a night I wanted to forget but had carried home anyway.
Slowly, I pushed myself upright. My stomach churned, bile rising with the heavy aftertaste
