William, his eyes heavy with fatigue, blinked into the pre-dawn darkness, the green glow of the digital clock telling him it was 5:00 am. Yet, sleep had eluded him, his mind plagued by the memory of Dahlia's wounded expression, the sound of her voice, its timbre a testament to his misstep.
He sighed, the breath escaping his lips a sigh of regret and confusion. Their relationship had been progressing smoothly, a fragile balance that he had so carelessly shattered with his denial.
William, his slippered feet shuffling across the cool tiles, approached the refrigerator in search of a thirst-quenching bottle of water.
Flicking on the kitchen light, he was stopped short by the unexpected sight of Dahlia standing in the center of the living room, the shadows of the early morning draping her in darkness.
