The next day.
Brandan woke up from his sleep, reaching out his arm to the side, only to find that the person who slept beside him last night had already left.
The place where she had lain was already cool, and he didn't know how long she had been gone.
He lay there for a moment, then lazily sat up shirtless, leaning against the headboard, and glanced around the room.
The clothes they had tossed aside in their indulgence last night were no longer on the floor. Iris's clothes had been taken by her, while his clothes were neatly folded by her and placed on the sofa not far away.
If it weren't for the faint scent of her still lingering in the air, he might have thought that last night's revelry was just a dream.
But now, it might as well have been a dream.
The room felt cold and empty, missing a person, with a silence that was unbearable.
Brandan raised his hand, took a cigarette from the bedside table, and lit it, taking a slow drag.
A hint of wistfulness appeared in his eyes.
