FREYA SINCLAIR
I wake up to silence. Not the comfortable kind. The heavy kind.
For a moment, I don’t know what pulled me from sleep. The room is dark, the curtains drawn, the faint city glow slipping through the edges. I shift slightly under the duvet—
And that’s when I notice it. The sofa. Empty. I push myself up on my elbows.
Rowan has been sleeping on that sofa every night since… everything. But now the blanket is folded neatly over the armrest. I glance at the clock on the bedside table.
01:47 AM.
Where would he—
I throw the covers aside and slip my feet into the cold floor. The air is chilly against my skin as I step out of the room quietly, not sure why I’m being quiet. I pulled my hoodie just for extra warmth.The hallway lights are dimmed. The house feels too large at night
