Aiden's Point of View
The first thing I feel when I wake up is the heavy weight in my chest, not from sleep, but from everything else. The room is quiet, dim, the curtains barely holding back the morning light. I open my eyes slowly, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room. The other side of the bed is empty. Of course it is. She's gone. Just another nameless face I let close for a few hours last night, hoping she’d blur out the ache clawing at my insides.
I drag a hand down my face and sit up, the sheets tangled around my waist, the room still smelling faintly of perfume and bourbon. I should feel something, guilt, shame, anything, but mostly I feel numb. And exhausted. Not physically. I’m used to that. It’s the pretending that’s draining me. Pretending to be the strong o
