KAEL – POV
The Morning After
The silence was deafening.
I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there—revisiting memories I had buried deep—just that the bottle was nearly empty, and the air reeked of something bitter and pathetic.
Whiskey had stopped burning after the sixth glass. Now it just numbed. My forehead rested against the cold marble of the kitchen counter, and my pulse thudded in my ears like a ticking bomb I couldn't shut off.
She was gone.
Walked out of my place like she couldn't get away fast enough. No more dramatic speeches, no one-liners—just quiet footsteps and a slammed door. I'd told myself I didn't care. That it was better this way. But apparently, I was full of shit because I hadn't slept a damn minute.
The lock clicked.
Niko stepped in cautiously like he was preparing to face a landmine. Smart move. I didn't lift my head.
"Did you take her home?," I asked, voice gravelled from smoke and sleep deprivation.
