It’s ridiculous.
Over-the-top.
Completely unrealistic.
I fucking love it.
And right now?
It’s the only thing keeping me from breaking.
Because I don’t want to think about reality.
Don’t want to think about how I built my life around a lie.
Don’t want to think about how I let one man become my entire world.
How I let him define me.
Break me.
Still affect me.
The truck hums beneath me, steady and sure, the road stretching out endlessly ahead like it doesn’t care where we’re going as long as we keep moving.
And eventually—my body gives in.
Exhaustion pulls me under, heavy and deep, like I’ve been holding myself together for too long and something finally snapped.
I sleep.
Hard.
Dreamless.
When I wake up, something feels off.
The light is different.
Brighter.
Harsher.
And there’s noise.
So much noise.
“Wake up, Sweetheart.”
His voice is softer than I expect.
Close.
Careful.
Like he’s approaching something fragile.
I blink, disoriented, my head thick with sleep, my body slow to catch up.
