The storm had passed, but its residue lingered in the air, thick with dampness. Rain tapped softly against the single window in Courtney's apartment, casting streaks of gray light across the hardwood floor. The clock on her kitchen counter ticked away in stubborn rhythm, marking the seconds of a morning that felt far too heavy for its quiet.
Courtney had been awake for hours, pacing the narrow space between her couch and kitchenette, coffee cooling on the table. Her stomach twisted with unease. The night replayed in pieces she couldn't fit together—Dwayne's sudden arrival at her door, the smell of whiskey clinging to his clothes, his words, rough and vulnerable: "Why are you tormenting me?"
