The first time my phone alarm rang out, I was too weak to even acknowledge it, too weak to even tap the snooze button. My body sank deeper into the warmth of the sheets, my limbs heavy, my mind sluggish, unwilling to yield to the shrill call.
The second time, I burrowed deeper into Raul's embrace—Raul, who had sneaked into my room minutes after my family had left. His chest was steady against my back, his arm lazily thrown across me, the faint rise and fall of his breathing a dangerous lullaby that coaxed me to ignore the world outside.
The third time, I would have maybe thrown the phone to the farthest corner of the room, but a knock sounded on my door, breaking the consideration to pieces.
I was late for my meeting with the Queen.
I raised my head, groggy with sleep, and searched with eyes closed, my hand fumbling across the sheets for my phone. When I found it, I lifted it closer to my face, my eyes clearing somewhat, my head becoming still when I noted the time.
5:30 a.m.
