IMOGEN'S POV
Sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains, painting a warm stripe across my face. My eyelids fluttered open, the brightness momentarily disorienting. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed an accusatory 11:58 AM in harsh red numbers. My stomach dropped.
I bolted upright, the cotton sheets sliding down to my waist. The movement stirred something beside me—someone. Isaac. His chest rose and fell in the peaceful rhythm of deep sleep, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw when he was awake. For a dangerous moment, I allowed myself to drink in the sight of him.
The domesticity of the moment crashed into me like a freight train. Talia. Joseph. School. The pieces of my fragmented life collided violently in my mind. Talia would be picking Joseph up from school soon. My son or Talia couldn't find Isaac here. Nobody could know about this moment of weakness.
