Claire's POV
I wake up with a wave of dread washing over me, thick and suffocating, settling deep in my chest before I'm even fully conscious. It lingers there, heavy and unrelenting, and as awareness slowly creeps in, it morphs into something sharper.
Anger.
I woke up pissed as hell, rage humming just beneath my skin like a live wire, ready to spark at the slightest touch.
The more I think about it, the worse it gets. Every second, every memory from last night replays in fragments, each one twisting tighter in my chest. And somehow, it all circles back to one person.
Louis.
I know, deep down, that I should have been honest from the start. Maybe if I had said something earlier—if I had told Mum and Grandma on my own terms, at my own pace—I wouldn't have had to see that look on their faces. That mix of shock, disappointment… betrayal.
My stomach tightens at the memory.
But still… this? The way everything unfolded?
That was on him.
