No second Ding. Just the echo of the first one settling into my bones.
Draven was gone. The door had been shut a long time.
I should have moved. Washed my face. Burned the dress.
I didn't.
The thought that pulled me was water. Not to clean. To see him. He'd be at the basin, shirt half-off, jaw locked, trying to get the smell of strawberry off his hands. If I walked in now, the air would go thick again. He'd say Stay. I wouldn't.
And that was the problem.
Neither of us knew where the edge was anymore. If I crossed the threshold, we'd find it by falling.
So I turned away from the bathroom.
The bed was closer.
I laid down without pulling the covers back. The silk was cool against my back. The icing was tacky on my collarbone. It tugged at my skin when I breathed. I didn't fix it.
Cedar. That was on the pillow. Him, lingering.
I closed my eyes to count to ten.
I didn't make it to three.
---
Morning came as light, not sound.
Warm across my eyelids. Quiet in the room.
