Cixi had waited for Cassian the entire night.
At first, she had told herself he would come late. Then she told herself he was probably busy, or angry, or doing whatever men like Cassian did when they vanished without giving anyone an explanation.
She kept turning towards the door at every small sound of the wind, her heart lifting each time foolishly, only to sink again when no one came into view.
By the time exhaustion finally dragged her under, her eyes had already begun to burn, and sleep took her before she could decide whether she was more worried or more annoyed.
When morning arrived, the space beside her was still empty.
Cixi stared at it for a few seconds, feeling the heaviness of disappointment settle inside her chest before she pushed herself up. Cassian had not come. The sheets on his side of the bed were untouched, and the sight irritated her more than she wanted to admit.
