I woke slowly, as if surfacing from underwater. The room was dim, soft sunlight filtering through the curtains in pale streaks. For a moment, I forgot where I was. The sheets were too soft, the room too quiet, the air too still.
Then it came back to me.
Ray’s mansion.
Last night.
His voice telling me I was safe.
My chest tightened with a confused rush of warmth and uncertainty.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and then froze.
The armchair across the room was empty.
But the blanket draped over it told me everything.
He had stayed the whole night.
Something in me knotted—not fear, not exactly. Something more tangled. A strange mix of comfort and danger, warmth and wariness. I wasn’t used to someone staying. I wasn’t used to anyone watching over me unless they wanted something.
What did
