I woke up with Adrian’s arm draped across my stomach, his breath warm against my neck. The sheets were twisted around our legs, sunlight leaking through the curtains—too bright, too early.
For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling, thinking about nothing, trying not to feel anything. Just existing in the quiet—in the softness of our bodies pressed together.
But it never lasts.
That peace. That silence.
It always shatters eventually.
I slid out from under his arm, careful not to wake him, and padded into the bathroom. I turned the water on and stared at myself in the mirror.
My eyes looked tired. Not just tired, but haunted. Like I hadn’t fully come back from what happened with Paul and William.
Sometimes, I wondered if I ever would.
Therapy helped in weird ways—more than I thought
