-Sloane Delgado:
When I woke up, it wasn't sudden. It was slow—like surfacing through layers of heavy water, each breath dragging me closer to reality. My head throbbed faintly, a dull ache pulsing behind my eyes, and for a moment I thought I was still dreaming. The sheets were soft, too soft, the air heavy with a faint scent of jasmine and gunpowder.
Sunlight spilled across the room in wide, golden strokes, breaking through the half-drawn curtains. The warmth pressed against my cheek, coaxing me further into wakefulness. I blinked a few times, vision clearing. My first thought wasn't of the house, or even the wedding—it was of her.
Roxy.
The bed beside me was empty. Her side of the mattress was already cool to the touch, the sheets pulled tight, no trace of her left but the faint indentation where her body had been. I stared at that hollow space for a long time, heart twisting in a confusing blend of relief and unease.
She was gone.
But not gone enough.
