Morning.
Sunlight filtered through the translucent walls of the residential chamber, casting everything in a soft golden glow.
Helena's eyes fluttered open.
Slowly. Groggily.
Her body felt... heavy. Like she'd been crying for hours. Which, technically, she had.
Her face was pressed against something warm. Solid. She could hear a heartbeat—steady, rhythmic—beneath her ear.
For a moment, she just lay there. Confused. Disoriented.
Then memory flooded back.
Last night, he was telling her to reveal, then turned to leave and burst on her, making her curse him.
Helena's eyes snapped fully open.
She lifted her head sharply, looking down.
Empty sheets.
Her hands shot out, patting the bed beside her desperately.
'Cold.'
No warmth. No body. No—
"Young Master?" Her voice came out hoarse. Panicked.
Helena twisted, head whipping around, brown eyes wide with fear.
"Young Master?!"
The bed was empty. She was alone. He wasn't—
'Did he leave?'
'Did he abandon me again?'
