The morning sun crawls through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the sheets. My head throbs the moment I open my eyes. "Ugh… how much did I drink last night?" I mutter under my breath, rubbing the dull ache at my temple.
The faint sound of waves drifts in through the half-open window — steady, soothing, endless. I blink a few times, trying to piece things together. Wait… waves? The sea?
My eyes widen. Where am I?
The memories come in fragments — the clinking of glasses, Daniel's steady voice, the firelight by the shore, and the bitter taste of wine. Then… nothing. My mind is a blank haze. Did we—? I stop the thought before it can form, panic flashing through me.
I glance down at myself — clothes still neat, body untouched. Relief washes through me.
Then I see him.
Daniel.
