Ariana’s POV

I woke up to the scent of him still on the shirt I wore.

It was too large, too soft, and too warm. It felt like being held in a memory I couldn’t quite grasp — but didn’t want to let go of either.

The sheets were rumpled. My body is sore from the storm, my knees still bruised from falling. My lips were dry, but swollen, like they remembered the kiss even when I tried not to. The night wasn’t a blur. If anything, it was too clear.

And yet… something about ...