POV: AmeliaThe morning sunlight flooded the room, seemingly indifferent to the events of the night before.Amelia stood at the sink, washing a coffee mug that didn’t belong to her. The water was scalding hot, but she didn’t mind. She had been scrubbing it for what felt like forever, as if the mug held some hidden truths she desperately needed to wash away.Behind her, Adrian was moving quietly. Too quietly. She sensed he was trying to give her some space. It annoyed her, but at the same time, she craved it.The weight of the previous evening still rested heavily on her chest. The almost-kiss, the way his breath gently brushed her lips, the way he said her name with such tenderness, and how she had flinched back like a coward.Sleep had barely come to her, not just out of guilt, but from fear, the fear that she had taken something genuine and left it suspended in the air, unfinished and raw.“Coffee’s fresh,” Adrian called from behind her.She nodded without turning around. “Thanks.”
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