Belle's pov
Belle woke to the soft light of morning filtering through the curtains, spilling pale streaks across the bed. The sheets beside her were cold, untouched for hours, and the emptiness struck her at once. Jasper was already gone.
She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind circling around the memory of the night before. That envelope crisp, unmarked, slipped beneath their door like some cruel whisper. She hadn't even been able to bring herself to tell Jasper about it because he came home looking drained, distracted, his mood set heavy. He'd showered, kissed her goodnight with little more than a murmur, and had fallen into bed. But she'd been the one still awake, staring at the shadows, wondering who had sent the message and why now.
Now, in the cool stillness of dawn, she wondered if he'd seen the envelope after all. Maybe he'd read the words and chosen silence. Or maybe he'd been too tired, too consumed by the storm at his company.
