Zara woke up feeling oddly out of sorts. Her body was rested, but her mind was restless. She sat up in bed, berating herself for falling asleep so deeply last night. Why didn’t I wake up to check if Jaxon was back? The guilt gnawed at her chest as she ran a hand over her hair.Throwing the covers aside, she padded into the bathroom, showered quickly, and dressed for work. Normally, mornings carried the aroma of coffee, and that of fried eggs and toast. But when she stepped into the living room, the silence felt heavy, too heavy.Her nose twitched—no coffee, no toast, nothing. The apartment felt empty.“Maybe he overslept,” she whispered to herself, trying to force a smile. “‘cause he came in late.”But doubt pressed on her chest. She walked to his room and knocked.No answer.She knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.“Jaxon?” she called, voice laced with unease.When silence answered her once again, she hesitated before turning the handle. The door creaked open,
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