The morning light was soft, brushing gently against the walls like it didn’t want to disturb what remained of the night.
The room was silent. Still.
Only the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing filled the space.
And his warmth.
Dylan’s body was pressed against mine, his arm draped lazily over my waist, bare skin to bare skin beneath the tangled blanket. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, the subtle weight of him anchoring me there.
I stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
What just happened?
My mind spun, dragging me back through the haze of last night… the fire, the fury, the way everything between us had unraveled so fast and stitched itself back together just as recklessly.
And now… this.
How did I end up here again?
After all the arguments. After Varessa’
