I did not sleep at all that night. I lay on the couch that Ethan had offered me, wrapped in a blanket that smelled faintly of laundry soap and woodsmoke, staring at the ceiling while the storm argued with the walls. Every gust rattled something and every crack of ice outside made my muscles jump.This was not my space, I thought and it sat heavy on my chest.The fire had burned low and the room glowed dim orange, shadows stretching and shrinking with each pop of the logs. Somewhere deeper in the cabin, a floorboard creaked. I wondered if Ethan heard it too. I wondered if he was lying awake like me, cataloguing every sound, every risk.I turned onto my side just then. The couch was comfortable enough, but it was not comfort I missed. It was permission. Permission to relax. To exist without feeling like I was intruding.My phone lay on the coffee table next to me, useless and dark.I closed my eyes finally after several minutes.Sleep came in fragments. Short, shallow drops where my b
Last Updated : 2025-12-29 Read more