The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of clothes as you slipped on your shirt. The warm glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden hue over the tangled sheets and the woman lying beneath them—Camryn Wexler, her hair a mess of waves against the pillow, her eyes still soft from moments shared not so long ago. She watched you, a mixture of curiosity and concern crossing her face as you buttoned your jeans.

“…Where are you going?” her voice was light, but the undertone of worry was unmistakable. She shifted under the covers, propping herself up on an elbow.

You paused, caught between the pull of her gaze and the weight of the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. How could you explain it? The years of friendship that had blossomed into something more. The moment of passion that had both solidified and complicated everything between you.

Camryn’s eyes searched yours, as if she were afraid of the answer, but desperate to hear it all the same.