FREYA CARTER
I didn’t sleep again. The shower ran for a long time. Long enough that the sound became a steady hum in the background of my thoughts. I lay there staring at the ceiling, replaying it over and over.
Hazel.
The way his voice had broken. The way he had clung to me like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. And then the way he had looked at me afterward like I had seen something I was never meant to see.
The water finally stopped. I closed my eyes quickly, pretending to be asleep. The bathroom door opened softly. I felt him pause. Felt his presence in the dark. But he didn’t come back to bed.
Instead, I heard his footsteps move away. Toward the living room. A door closed quietly.
After that… Nothing.
Just silence.
I lay there for hours. Every small sound
