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By the seventh day, the cabin had officially lost its charm for me. I knew every creaky floorboard by heart, every uneven nail on the porch railing, and every knot in the ceiling beams. Adrien and I, without even realizing it, had cleaned, rearranged, and reorganized nearly every corner out of pure boredom. We'd cooked five different meals since there was nothing else to do, stacked them neatly in the fridge, and read almost every painfully dull book from the dusty shelves. Honestly, I felt like the walls were closing in on us.
Adrien suddenly stood up from the couch, stretching lazily and then groaning. "I'm going fucking insane," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I need to get out before I start talking to the furniture."
He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door, and I hesitated before blurting out, "W–wait, you're leaving?"
He glanced back at me, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah. You sound surprised."
