The first thing I registered was the smell. Him. Sandalwood and something darker, something wild. It clung to the silk sheets I was tangled in. His sheets. His bed. His room.

My head throbbed, a dull, aching reminder of the cliffside, the wind, the terrifying freedom of letting go. And his arms snatching it back. I pushed myself up, the world swimming for a moment before it righted itself. The emptiness inside me, the hollow ache where my baby should have been, was a sharper pain than any ...