ALEX.
I woke up with a strange heaviness sitting in my chest, the kind that lingered even after I opened my eyes and reminded myself where I was. The guest room ceiling came into focus slowly; cream-colored, high, elegant, and for a moment I lay there, staring, replaying fragments of the night before.
Edmund’s voice echoed in my mind.
“He's not over her. Might never be. But you're good for him, Alex. Just give him time.”
He hadn’t said her name. Not once. But I knew who she was.
I rolled onto my side, staring at the pale winter light creeping in through the curtains, and wondered where the woman Edmund spoke about was. Why wasn’t she here? Why was she absent during the holidays, when families were meant to be together? The questions pressed against me, uncomfortable and intrusive, and
