Ziggy propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze settling on Fara. Her dark hair was a mess against the pillow, her breathing soft and steady in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. She looked peaceful. Almost too peaceful for someone who carried the weight of so much unspoken turmoil.
He let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as his thoughts spiraled. What are we even doing?
This wasn't what he'd expected when she called him out of the blue. The hotel room, the wine, the unspoken invitation. It had all felt like a dream, one he didn't dare question. Fara had always had that effect on him, pulling him into her orbit like a force he couldn't resist.
But now, in the stillness, reality started to creep back in. He glanced at the empty wine glass, the tangled sheets, and the slight furrow in her brow even as she slept. Fara wasn't just anyone, she was Fara. Complicated, guarded, and carrying more baggage than she'd ever admit out loud.
