The morning after felt hollow.
For a moment, she didn’t even remember where she was. The air smelled faintly of perfume and the expensive detergent Gracie used, a scent Carrie normally found comforting. Today, it pressed heavy on her chest. She lay very still, letting reality settle in slowly, piece by piece, like a puzzle forming whether she asked for it or not.
Carrie blinked awake, the sunlight spilling harsh and unforgiving across the sheets. For a second, she reached for him, expecting warmth. Instead, her hand touched nothing but a cold stretch of mattress. Andrew was gone.
Her brain took a beat to catch up. Her heartbeat tripped into a frantic stutter. Her fingers curled into the sheets, still rumpled, still smelling faintly of him, clean skin, cologne, and something deeper, more
