When Olivia woke up, sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, warming the empty side of the bed. The space where Damon had been was cold. Her hand drifted to it, searching, hoping. but she found only linen. No warmth. No breath. No trace of him but the lingering scent of his skin.
Alone.
The word echoed inside her, sharp and sudden. She lay there for a moment, unmoving, letting the silence stretch, letting it choke her. Something fragile twisted in her chest, but she clenched her jaw and shoved it down. She would not let herself unravel. It was just a moment of vulnerability and nothing else. She did not love him.
She pushed back the covers and rose from the bed, ignoring the dull ache between her thighs, the soreness that lingered on her skin like a memory. Her shift was crumpled on the floor, half hidden under the edge of the bed. She picked it up and slipped it on, the fabric catching slightly against the marks scattered along her body.
Her breath caught.
