Despite my initial plans, I stayed still, the cold morning air still clung to my skin as I sat at the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. The pale light filtering through the frosted glass seemed too soft for the weight of everything I felt. My body ached with exhaustion—not just physical, but the deep, bone-tired kind of exhaustion that came from fighting too hard for too long, and it kept me from moving.
The memories of the fight still loomed over me, sharp and raw. Mark's apology echoed in my mind, his words twisting into thoughts I couldn't seem to shake. The guilt in his eyes had been genuine, and his explanation of his past had filled in some of the gaps I hadn't fully understood before.
And yet, it didn't make the pain disappear. It didn't erase what he'd said or how much it had cut me.
