I hadn't seen her in seven days.
A week might not sound like much to anyone else, but for me, it was an eternity. The kind of stretch where every night was filled with restless turning, every morning tasted bitter because I woke without her scent in my lungs.
Tonight, I finally had permission. No guards, no excuses, no barriers. For the first time since our relationship had shifted from brokenness into something fragile but real, I would step into her private space—her room in the Draven mansion.
The heavy door clicked shut behind me.
I stood still, my hand hovering on the doorknob as though I'd stepped into holy ground. The air itself seemed different—softer, warmer, undeniably hers. Mint. It rolled through my senses in waves, the freshness both calming and intoxicating.
And then I looked around.
