Enzo's POV
Monday had arrived with the dull weight of reality, a quiet end to the reprieve I'd clung to for as long as I could. My leave was officially over, and the routine I had successfully avoided for days was now calling me back. I stood alone at the bus stop, the early morning chill brushing against my skin, seeping through the fabric of my hoodie. The streets were still yawning awake, painted in gray light and soft drizzle. It smelled like wet asphalt and dew familiar, grounding, almost comforting.
Alaric had left the night before. His warmth still lingered in the memory of the sheets and the faint scent of his cologne on my skin. He'd promised me I'd see him today, and something in his voice his unwavering certainty made me believe it. It wasn't a promise laced with doubt. It was simply fact. I held onto that.
