The thing about heartbreak is that it doesn’t kill you all at once. It’s slow. Cruel. A blade pressed against your ribs, sinking deeper every time you breathe.
By the time I got home, I could barely stand.
Demi had wanted to stay, to get me drunk, to tell me every ugly, vicious thing she thought about Asher and Dottie until I was laughing instead of crying. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend I was anything other than wrecked.
So I told her I was fine. Lied through my teeth. And now I was here—alone, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the ache in my chest to stop.
It didn’t.
It got worse.
I curled onto my side, gripping the sheets, hating how empty my bed felt. Hating that my body still wanted him. That some deep, instinctive part of me kept reaching for something that wasn’t m
