The storm came without warning. Rain lashed against the windows, thunder rolled like war drums, and the power flickered once, twice, before settling into a dim glow.
Elena paced her room, restless. She hated storms. Always had. As a child, they had kept her awake, each crash of thunder rattling through her bones. But this time it wasn't just the storm outside that left her unsettled, it was the storm inside her.
A knock at her door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts.
"Elena?" Matteo's voice was deep, softer than usual. "Are you awake?"
She froze. "What do you want?"
"I could ask the same," he said. "I saw your light still on."
"I can't sleep."
There was a pause. Then, "Neither can I. May I come in?"
Elena hesitated, every instinct screaming to say no. But her lips betrayed her. "Fine."
