Serena woke to a mouth as dry as sandpaper and a stomach that felt like it was devouring itself. A dull ache pressed against her ribs, a hollow gnawing that made her curl tighter beneath the sheets before the full weight of her hunger hit—deep, insistent, almost painful.
She barely remembered what happened last night, but the scene where she ordered wine and downed the first glass stuck to her memory like a silent reminder. Now, her body was paying the price, demanding reparation in the form of grease, carbs—anything edible. The thought of something cooking in the distance teased her, cruel and tantalizing, making her stomach clench with desperation.
Groaning, she flung off the covers, her limbs weak, her head pounding, but her hunger an unrelenting force driving her forward. She needed food, and she needed it now.
