The next morning, reality settled in.
Mark was already gone when I stirred awake, though the imprint of him still lingered in the sheets beside me. I stretched slowly, my body pleasantly sore, the warmth of last night still humming beneath my skin.
But as I got up, slipping into my robe, I reminded myself of the same thing we had been telling each other for weeks.
No strings. No complications. Just fun.
I made my way downstairs, finding Mark in the kitchen, already dressed, coffee in hand.
He glanced up when he saw me, smirking slightly. "Morning."
I grabbed a cup, pouring my own coffee as I leaned against the counter. "Morning."
He looked… normal. Like we hadn't spent half the night tangled together, like nothing had changed.
Except it had.
Because despite everything we told ourselves, nothing about this was simple anymore.
And deep down, we both knew it.
But we didn't say it.
Instead, we fell back into routine.
