Cammy swung the door open without bothering to check the peephole, too emotionally drained to care.
She wasn't expecting visitors.
And yet, standing right in front of her was Greg.
His brows instantly furrowed the moment he took in her red, swollen eyes. "Cammy… were you crying?"
Before he could say another word, she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if he were the only thing keeping her from crumbling.
Greg stiffened for half a second, startled by the sudden embrace, but quickly recovered. His arms enveloped her, holding her close without hesitation.
But unlike before, Cammy didn't sob.
Her tears had run dry, yet the ache in her chest remained—heavy, suffocating. And right now, all she needed was this. The warmth. The quiet comfort of someone who wouldn't demand anything, who wouldn't ask her to be strong when she felt like breaking apart.
