I sat upright, uncaring for the hand that was draped around my waist. I couldn’t be sure whether it had just been my imagination that was playing tricks on me, or whether it had truly happened—whether I had actually heard the door open, heard someone step into the house.
There was part of me that dared to hope that it was just my mind, that it had to be. I looked towards the window, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening around me. The sun was slowly, but surely rising, no longer obscured by the waves of clouds that had kept it hidden from us for what felt like ages now. It was a strange sight to see, one that felt foreign.
My ears tuned to the footsteps that were now rushing up the staircase, and I turned, looking down at Matthew, who was still soundly asleep beside me
