You are not a monster

The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting soft gold across the sheets. Killian's hand reached instinctively across the bed—and found nothing but cold linen where Annie should have been.

His heart stopped.

He sat up sharply, every muscle tensing as his eyes swept the space beside him. The argument from last night came rushing back—her tears, his assertiveness, the gap that had opened between them when she saw the depths of what he truly was.

She's gone.

She left me.

The thought sliced through him like a blade. He threw off the blankets and moved with barely controlled panic, first to her old room but it was empty. The bathroom was empty too. Each vacant space he opened confirmed his worst fear. His breathing came faster, though his face remained a careful mask. He couldn't fall apart yet.

He forced himself to walk to the sitting room, preparing for the emptiness or the note she might have left saying goodbye.

Instead, he found her.

Annie stood by the dining table,