I don’t even remember walking here—back to the bed we shared just hours ago. The sheets still carry the warmth of him, the ghost of his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered my name like it meant everything.
And now…
I sit on the edge, fingers trembling in my lap.
The room is still.
But my mind isn’t.
It plays on a loop—images I’ve never seen but can imagine far too clearly.
Logan.
With her.
Whoever she is.
Her nails dragging down his back.
His mouth on her skin.
His name gasped from someone else’s lips.
My stomach twists violently.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it away. But the images only sharpen—flash after flash, static on a broken screen.
His face buried between her thighs.
His hands gripping someone else with no restraint, no tenderness.
Just heat.
Just desire.
A broken sound cracks from my chest, and I bolt.
I barely make it to the bathroom before I fall to my knees and retch, heaving out everything—confusion, betrayal. Pain. So much pain.
The porcelain is cool beneath my forehead, a cruel contrast to the fire under my skin. I breathe in shallow gasps, my hair clinging to damp cheeks. The taste of salt hits my tongue before I realize—
I’m crying again.
The door creaks open.
I don’t lift my head.
“Baby…”
His voice is soft. Fractured.
“Please?”
I clench my eyes tighter. The words leave me in a whisper that still cuts like glass.
“Leave.”
A beat.
