Shayla
The next morning, the weight of everything hit me all at once—physically, mentally, emotionally. My body felt heavy, like I'd spent the whole night running in circles instead of sleeping. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever, too tired to move but too restless to fall back asleep. Chris was already up, moving quietly around the room so he wouldn't wake me, probably not sleeping well either. The smell of fresh coffee drifted in from the kitchen, but even that didn't do much to lift the fog in my head.
When I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen, Chris turned and smiled softly, a steaming mug already waiting on the counter for me.
"Morning," he said, his voice gentle. "How are you feeling?"
I wrapped my hands around the mug, savoring the warmth. "Tired," I admitted. "Drained."
