The zipper of her dress stuck halfway down.
Figures.
Elira stood in front of the mirror, hair still tousled, her heels discarded near the doorway.
The city buzzed outside her window, alive and uncaring. A stark contrast to the stillness inside her apartment.
She looked at herself—really looked.
Smudged lipstick. Bruised lips. A shadow of something she didn't recognize in her eyes.
Stupid, she whispered, yanking the dress off.
Last night was supposed to be closure. A final chapter sealed between silk sheets and silence. Not… whatever that had been. Not full of heat and hesitation and something dangerously close to wanting.
She tossed the dress aside and turned on the shower.
Steam fogged the mirror. She stepped under the water, hoping it would wash away the way his voice had carved itself into her skin.
The way her name sounded like a plea when he whispered it.
It didn't.
By the time she wrapped herself in a towel, her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number.
Her heart stalled—once. Then twice.
She didn't pick up.
It buzzed again. And again. Until she finally checked.
1 Message.
You disappeared. Typical.
But this time, Elira—don't expect me to pretend you didn't happen.
She stared at the screen.
And for the first time in a long time…
She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or block him.