By Emily Harrison • February 28, 2026 • Share
She was huddled in his blankets, an oversized flannel shirt hanging from her shoulders. Her blue dress lay in a stiff, sodden heap beside the …
The room was silent except for the gentle patter of rain against the window. Her fingers traced the patterns on the quilt absentmindedly, her mind elsewhere.
He had left in haste, as if the urgency of the situation demanded it. But now, alone in the quiet, she wondered if she had imagined the fear in his eyes.
There was something unspoken in the air, a tension that clung to her like the dampness of the room. She tried to shake it off, but it lingered, persistent.
Her eyes landed on the clock on the mantle. The minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching into the next, as if time itself had slowed.
The rain intensified, its rhythm becoming a steady drumbeat, matching the pounding of her heart. What had driven him away so suddenly?
She wrapped the flannel closer around her, seeking comfort in its warmth. But the questions persisted, swirling around her like the storm outside.
The sound of footsteps in the hall broke through her reverie, snapping her back to the present. Her pulse quickened as she listened, hopeful yet wary.
A shadow under the door, a pause, and then the knob turned slowly, deliberately. She held her breath, eyes fixed on the entrance.
When the door finally swung open, she wasn’t sure what she had hoped to see. Relief or explanation, perhaps. Instead, there was only more uncertainty.
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