Amelia's povI woke up late, my body heavy in a way that had nothing to do with how long I’d slept. My limbs felt weak, drained, still carrying the aftermath of what I’d done to myself in that shower the night before, the memory of it not a dream at all, but real, my own hands, my own voice breaking on his name against the tile. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling the last of it still humming faintly under my skin.Eventually hunger won out over exhaustion, and I dragged myself up, pulling a sweater over my head and telling myself I needed coffee more than I needed to think about anything else. But halfway to my door, my hand still on the handle, the thought crept in uninvited.What if Leonardo’s in the kitchen.My stomach did that same familiar flip it had been doing every time his name crossed my mind lately, half nerves, half something warmer I didn’t want to name so early in the morning. I stood t
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-08-22
Se connecter
