OBEYE

24

09.17.23

•Ciauna•

My eyes fluttered open to the subtle luminescence of sunlight filtering through the old, faded curtains.

The familiar scent of salt and sea air lingered.

My senses stirred slowly, lulled by the warmth of the sheets and the cool breeze drifting in through the cracked window.

It was disorienting; this calm morning after the late hours that had been anything but.

I blinked slowly, letting my gaze adjust to the room's dull radiance.

The affliction in my body was immediate, a stale ache in my legs and hips that spread with every slight movement.

The night before had been intense—too intense—and my body still felt the burden of everything we'd done.

The mattress seemed to hold me down, heavy and balmy, as if it knew I wasn't ready to face the day yet.

My thighs trembled slightly, memories flooding back with an unexpected force, making me shift beneath the fabric.

I could still feel him—his touch, his weight—imprinted on every inch of me.

But the space beside me was empty.

My fingers grazed the sheets where Mr. Obe-Keith had been, the warmth already fading, just like the intensity between us.

A strange feeling welled up inside me, the vulnerability of waking up alone after everything that had passed between us.

His absence left an impression, one that stung more than I wanted to admit.

I closed my eyes again, swallowing against the tightness in my chest.

I had braced myself for detachment, for the inevitable distance he would create, but not like this.

This was different—quieter.

There was no cold dismissal, no harsh words waiting for me when I opened my eyes.

Instead, it was just me, tangled in the aftermath of the night, trying to reconcile the man I thought I knew with the one who had left me here.

The smell of food teased me, drawing my attention away from the empty space beside me.

Bacon, eggs, and coffee—it wasn't just breakfast, it was a message.

He was still here.

Somewhere.

And he was cooking.

I forced myself to sit up, the sheets slipping down my body as I moved.

The mild throbbing between my legs was a reminder of how deeply I had surrendered, how far I had let him push me.

My skin felt raw, exposed, as if the intimacy of the night had peeled away layers I hadn't even realized I had.

I stood slowly, my feet pressing into the cool wooden floor, the heaviness of the house settling around me.

Every creak, every distant hum from the waves outside, felt amplified.

The air was tainted with something I couldn't name—something unspoken that lingered between us, even with him in another room.

I wrapped the sheet tightly around me, a flimsy barrier against the vulnerability that seemed to pulse through my veins.

I stepped toward the doorway, each step tentative, unsure of what I would find.