SAMANTHA’S POVThe hotel alarm clock glowed at 1:47 AM. Mum and Dad were both asleep, Dad snoring lightly in the armchair, Mum curled under the covers with her back to me. My suitcase sat by the door like a sentence waiting to be carried out. Saturday morning flight. Home to London. Back to safety, expectations, and the version of me who never broke the rules.I couldn’t breathe.I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbed my hoodie, and crept toward the door. My bare feet made no sound on the carpet. The second the door clicked shut behind me, I ran.Wesley’s flat was only a fifteen-minute walk, but I ran the whole way. Rain soaked through my hoodie. My heart hammered louder than the thunder.He opened the door before I could knock, like he’d been waiting. No shirt. Grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Green eyes dark with a mix of relief and pain.“You came,” he said, voice rough.I stepped inside without a word. The door slammed shut. He locked it.For a long moment we
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