The next morning did not come gently.It came with sound.Not soft, polite sounds like the distant hum of conversation or the clinking of cutlery from breakfast downstairs. No. It came loud, abrupt, and entirely inconsiderate of the fact that some people had gone to bed far too late and woken up far too early the day before. It came in the form of voices, footsteps, doors opening and closing down the hallway, and somewhere, unmistakably, laughter that felt just a little too bright for the hour.My eyes fluttered open slowly, reluctantly, my body heavy beneath the sheets as if sleep still had a firm grip on me and refused to let go. For a moment, I simply stared at the ceiling, unmoving, trying to gather myself and figure out where I was, because waking up somewhere unfamiliar always came with that brief, disorienting pause. Then it settled in. Miami. The hotel. The wedding.Brandon.That thought alone was enough to make my awareness sharpen, my gaze shifting slightly to the side witho
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