Stephany was losing her mind.
Night after night, she lay in bed, twisting in sheets damp with sweat and tears, suffocating under the weight of an absence she couldn't bear.
It had been too long since she last saw Lucien—too long since she felt the warmth of his presence, the way his voice curled around her name like a whisper of temptation. She ached in places she didn't know could hurt, a hollow ache that burrowed deeper into her soul with every passing moment.
She tried to sleep, but sleep was cruel. It teased her with fleeting dreams of him—his smirk, his touch, the way his fingers traced lazy patterns along her wrist. And just when she thought she could hold onto him, the dreams would shatter, leaving her gasping, clutching at nothing but the empty air.
Tonight was no different.
