I laughed it off. Trusted him. Drank it.
The next thing I remember was sunlight burning through the curtains and silence so deep it felt unnatural.
His side of the bed was empty.
My phone was on the nightstand.
One message.
I tried to wake you, but you were completely out. We couldn’t miss the flight. I logged into your airline account and gave your ticket to Mom’s friend so it wouldn’t go to waste. Hope you understand.
I read it three times.
Then my stomach dropped.
I had never slept that deeply in my life—except once, years earlier, after taking valerian. Which Mark knew I reacted badly to.
I didn’t cry. Anger burned too cleanly for that.
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