Chapter 38 The First Strike

• Sleep is the last thing on my mind tonight.
• I lie in bed, my phone clutched tightly in my hand as I scroll through old messages in Ric’s chat. My heart aches with every swipe, and I wait — hope — for the familiar ping of a notification, for his name to flash across the screen, offering even the faintest thread of connection. But the sound doesn’t come, and neither does the relief I so desperately crave.
• The silence feels like an accusation, and I blame myself entirely.