#Chapter 49: That Damn Towel

Logan I told myself I was giving her space. That every quiet glance she threw over her shoulder, every moment she slipped down the hallway without meeting my eyes—it wasn’t avoidance. Just time. Just distance. Just a bruise that needed to fade. But the truth was harder to swallow. Emily wasn’t drifting. She was retreating. And I was letting her. I stood outside her bedroom door, hand poised in the air for far too long, debating if I should knock. Without thinking I just turned the knob and stepped inside her space, uninvited. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not standing in her room, not pacing by her window, not staring at the line where her shower steam still fogged the mirror on the far wall. But I’d lost count of the ways this arrangement had unraveled. And tonight, I couldn’t stomach another hour of pretending her absence didn’t bother me. She’d been gone all weekend and come back quieter than ever. She slipped past me in the halls like a ghost. The worst part wasn