The first thing I felt when I woke was cold.
Not the kind that drifted in with morning air, this one started in my chest and settled like frost. The kind that meant alone.
I reached for the space beside me.
Empty. No warmth. No scent.
Just cold sheets and the bitter taste of regret.
For a moment, I almost convinced myself it was a dream.
But my body told the truth, sore lips, aching thighs, wrists still tingling with the memory of his grip.
You can hate me after, he’d said.
But I didn’t hate him.
I hated this, the silence, the vanishing act, the way he left like I hadn’t meant anything at all.
A knock on the door startled me.
One quick rap, followed by another, more rhythmic.
Lena.
Of course it was her.
“Ava?” Her voice was chipper, almost singsong. “Please tell
