DAXTON

The night was quiet, but my thoughts were not. I stood by the window in my study, my palm pressed to the cold glass. I hadn't slept. I couldn't.

The house felt wrong.

Arya felt wrong.

She had kissed me as though nothing had changed. As if she wasn't alternating between someone I knew and someone I didn't. And gods, I wanted to believe her. I wanted to bury myself in the illusion. But I couldn’t bring myself to.

Behind me, the door creaked open, but I didn't turn.

...