Left Out

Joanne blinked groggily, her gaze drifting around the dimly lit room. Nothing looked out of place, yet something felt off. She shifted beneath the sheets, her muscles still sore, her head pounding like a relentless drum.

How long had she slept?

She turned toward the window, watching as the first hints of golden sunlight bled across the horizon. Morning.

Her fever had broken.

Almost like clockwork.

Every summer, around this exact time, it came. The searing heat. The aching body. The exhaustion so deep it dragged her under like waves pulling her into the ocean's depths.

Ever since she broke up with him.

Her breath caught as her eyes flicked to the date on her bedside clock.

Yeah. Right around the time she left Liam. A sharp, familiar pang lanced through her chest.

Her biggest regret—Breaking up with him.