"How peculiar," he muttered.
I was just as puzzled. Why would he say that?
From the way his gaze lingered, I could tell he was studying me—as if I were some kind of riddle he hadn't yet solved.
Still lying on my back, utterly drained, I soon slipped into sleep.
When I woke, daylight had already flooded the room.
The morning light felt like a dull blade, slowly slicing into my eyelids.
Pain came before awareness. Before sight.
My shoulders, my waist, my legs—even my fingertips ached, as if I'd run through an entire forest the night before. Yet not a single memory had been carried away by the wind.
I drew in a breath and finally opened my eyes.
The other side of the bed was empty.
The sheets were cold, though the indentation remained—mocking proof that someone had been there. The r
