Caz
The house was still.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, dust motes spinning in the golden hush. I stood in the kitchen, holding a mug I hadn’t taken a sip from, watching the coffee go cold.
She was still asleep upstairs.
Curled in our bed, body exhausted from the night of crying, of clinging to me like I was the only solid thing left. I had held her through it. No questions. No bitterness. Just my arms around her while her heart broke for someone else—even as she told me I was the one she was choosing.
And I believed her.
I felt her.
But gods, it was brutal.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like a funeral.
I leaned against the counter, eyes closed, and exhaled slow through my nose. Angelus was quiet for once. Not peaceful—just…watching. Waiting. The way he always did wh
