Jessa

Saturday mornings were supposed to be easy.

Quiet.

Predictable.

Laundry. Dishes. Vacuuming.

Maybe a book if Mom wasn’t yelling about dusting baseboards like they were national monuments.

That was what I signed up for today — a boring, safe Saturday.

Instead, I’d spent the last eight hours replaying the sound of Noah Carter’s voice saying sweet dreams like I was some lovesick extra in a teen romcom.

I tried to distract myself with chores.

The laundry basket ...