The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden rays across the expansive bedroom. For the first time in what felt like forever, the light touched Celeste's skin without the immediate weight of dread. The linen sheets beneath her felt impossibly soft, and for a fleeting second, she forgot everything.
Then she turned, reaching out.
He wasn't there.
Dominic's side of the bed was cold.
Celeste pushed herself up slowly. Her muscles ached in places she didn't remember using. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a mess of waves, and her throat felt dry.
The events of last night, her trembling hands dialing Dominic, and the storm of emotions surging after discovering the wreckage of her apartment washed over her all over again. She squeezed her eyes shut.
She wasn't safe.
Not even in her own home.
