Chapter 18

"Distressed," I repeat, and I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes. If only he knew. If only he understood that the distress isn't from the dream itself, but from waking up and losing it.

I push my hair back from my face, trying to gather my composure, but my hands are shaking slightly. The dream felt so real, his touch, his words, the way he looked at me like I was everything he'd ever wanted.

"No, not distressed. Just... weird dreams, you know? Nightmares about..... London"

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it's easier than the truth. Easier than admitting I was dreaming about him...