Meredith.
I woke up feeling like I hadn't truly slept at all.
A slow, stubborn yawn pulled from my chest as I pushed myself up from the mattress, my joints cracking faintly from stiffness.
My limbs felt heavy, as if sleep had left behind a fog that refused to lift.
The truth was, I hadn't fallen asleep easily.
Last night, after we returned, I had changed into my nightdress, sat at the edge of my bed and just… waited. Waiting for Draven to come. To step in, maybe to explain more, because there was no need for him to apologize — I knew he had done nothing wrong to me directly.
But still… I had expected something—a few words, a look that might clear the distance.
But he never came.
And so, at some hour between awake and asleep, my eyelids had finally won, dropping closed under the weight of my disappointment.
Now, as I stretched again, I felt the ache of it settle deeper than my muscles — something like quiet resentment, curling at the edge of my thoughts.
