The next morning, I woke with a hangover that had nothing to do with alcohol. My body was fine, but my mind felt bruised. The thought of walking into the office, of pretending everything was normal while whispers and headlines followed me—my stomach knotted just thinking about it.I sat at the vanity, hairbrush loose in my hand, staring at my reflection. A faint line of fatigue cut under my eyes, and though I tried to ignore it, my bandaged arm sat like a reminder in my lap.“You’re quiet,” Ethan said behind me.He was already dressed, sleeves rolled up, hair damp from the shower. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me in the mirror.“I’m fine,” I said automatically.“You’ve said that so many times I should get it stitched on a pillow,” he replied dryly. Then, softer: “But you’re not fine. You don’t even want to go in today, do you?”My silence was answer enough.Ethan crossed the room, resting his hands gently on my shoulders. His reflection met mine, his jaw set with a decisi
Last Updated : 2025-08-28 Read more