Chapter One-Eleven: Unsalvageable

Neither my body’s stretch against the warm sheets nor the sound of the coastal morning birds could relieve any tension bubbling in my stomach.

I cannot believe he did not, at any point in the night, reach out to me.

The bars are still on the windows; I can see their shadow against the curtain.

The only thing that keeps me from giving in to my misery is the scent of bacon flooding my room. Perhaps he wishes to speak over breakfast?

Then again, the Marko I know cannot cook.

I do not bother with a shower, merely drape one of his robes over my body and rush to the dining room.

A laugh nearly claims me at the sight that fills my eyes, but the bitterness within me would not permit anything to flow from my lips.

The room was empty, but on the table sat a plate of breakfast essentials wrapped in a clingfilm that bore a note atop it.

I don't...want to read it.

I don’t want my heart to escape me at the meaning behind a simple yellow note.

"Marko."

I call, but no answer.

Then again,