Kim's phone rang like it had a personal vendetta.
She groaned, turned her face into the pillow, and slapped the mattress blindly until her hand found the phone. Without opening her eyes, she silenced it.
"Whoever you are," she muttered into the darkness, voice thick with sleep, "you are lucky I believe in peace."
She rolled onto her side and tried to sink back into sleep. It was her day off. One of the rare mornings where she did not have to wake up to alarms or schedules or forced smiles. She planned to savor it.
The phone rang again.
Kim hissed, yanked it closer, and squinted at the screen, ready to curse properly this time.
The name staring back at her erased every trace of sleep from her body.
Aiden.
Her heart lurched, sharp and unwelcome.
She stared at the screen like it might explode.
Five months.
Five months of silence. Five months of rebuilding herself inch by inch. Five months of teaching herself how to breathe without him.
And now this.
