Emma's POV
By the time I woke up, my mouth tasted like regret and my skull felt like someone had replaced my brain with a brick. I groaned into my pillow, tried to roll over, then immediately regretted that too. My stomach churned in protest.
God. Why did I drink that much?
Right. Because yesterday felt like living inside a nightmare and a dream at the same time. Ethan reappearing like a ghost dragged out of my past, and Damian—storm-eyed, impossibly steady Damian—standing between us like he was born to.
I forced myself to sit up, though the room swayed gently, like it was teasing me for my life choices. Light peeked through the blinds, way too bright, way too judgemental. I squinted at my phone on the nightstand. My fingers shook a little as I reached for it.
Two messages.
My throat tightened when I saw the first name.
Damian: Good. Get some rest. I'll check on you tomorrow.
