HOPE
Waking up every fucking day knowing exactly how the hours will unfold is starting to feel like its own kind of trap. A quiet, creeping realization that maybe I won't outrun any of this. That maybe I'm already caught in their web—but just too stubborn to admit it.
It's impossible not to notice how my life has fallen into a pattern. Every morning starts with the sound of my doorbell, a tray of breakfast mysteriously delivered—always hot and always my favorite, and most times it's what I'd be craving. Then it's a ride to campus with either Asher or Jeremy, neither of them saying much, just looming with that silent Alpha energy.
I've told the others that I'd appreciate it if we don't see each other often—it's going to make my day much better.
Then I have my study sessions with Lizzie after class, and I return home to find my dinner waiting for me on my fucking bed.
