NOAH
The high-pitched, digital shriek of my alarm didn't just wake me; it felt like a physical assault, a needle driving straight through my temple to pull me out of the merciful numbness of sleep.
For a second, I didn't know where I was. The ceiling was too low, the air smelled like stale hotel climate control and something bitter. Then I shifted, and the cramped, stiff protest of my muscles reminded me.
The couch. I had spent the night on the couch because the bedroom felt too empty, or perhaps because I didn't want to wake up in the same bed where I'd once felt the aftermath of Cassian's touch on my body and ached for more.
I groaned, burying my face into the cushion. My head throbbed with the ghost of a hangover I hadn't even earned... just the sheer weight of emotional exhaustion.
My chest felt like it had been hollowed out with an ice cream scoop, leaving nothing but a cold, aching void.
