The rain began before dawn—soft, persistent, the kind that felt like it was washing the world clean while leaving her untouched. Elise sat curled on the couch, wrapped in one of David’s hoodies, her coffee long gone cold. The scent of him lingered in the fabric—familiar, steady, suffocating.
She hadn’t cried since Miley left life night hut, her eyes still stung from the lack of sleep and tears she had already lost.
Now, as morning light bled through the blinds, she could only replay the scene over and over: the sound of David moaning, the flash of a silk blouse, David’s hand on the other woman’s head thrusting himself deeper, like he belonged there as his head hung back in pleasure.
She wanted to scream. To break something. To feel something other than this hollow ache that sat behind h
