MATTEO’S POV
I bolted awake, blinking blurry visions away to find myself staring at the familiar ceiling of my penthouse – the one I shared with Daya. The smell of bacon, her one true culinary masterpiece, wafted through the air, pulling me towards the kitchen like a zombie to brains. There she was, a vision in a white robe, her hair twisted into a messy bun that somehow still looked hot. Every curve hugged by the fabric was etched into my memory. It had to be her. Daya was back. Tears welled up in my eyes, but as I choked out her name, she spoke, her voice faint and muffled, the words dissolving into the haze of my sleep-addled mind.
"I'm coming baby," she murmured again, the words a cruel echo in the emptiness beside me. My jaw hung slack as I watched her plate the food. Then, she wa
