Rain's POV:
I wake up with my head pounding.
It's the kind of ache that sits right behind my eyes, heavy and dull, like my skull is packed too tight.
I roll onto my side, reaching instinctively,and my hand meets nothing but rumpled sheets, still warm, still holding the faintest trace of him.
His scent clings to the pillow, clean and familiar, and it makes my chest tighten before I can stop it.
I bury my face into the mattress and groan.
For a long second, I don't move.
I just lie there, breathing into the fabric, letting the weight of the morning settle in.
Then I squint toward the clock on the far wall.
6:30.
Too early. Too quiet.
I don't feel like going to work.
I don't want to see him.
I don't want to hear what he has to say,or worse, how easily he'll make me feel small without even trying.
I push myself up anyway.
My joints scream in protest, arms still sore from swimming, muscles aching in that deep, stubborn way that reminds me I pushed too hard.
