Chapter 192

Harper's POV

When the glass is empty, I set it in the sink and turn toward the stove. My stomach rumbles before I even open a cupboard, and I know Mason would yell if he found out I didn’t eat something real. So I pull out the bread, some bacon, and let the ritual begin. The sizzle of the meat in the pan is comforting, filling the kitchen with warmth and familiarity. I toast the bread, drizzle a little honey over it when it’s done, and then layer the crispy bacon on top. It’s a weird combination, but one I love. Sweet and salty, soft and crisp. Balanced.

I eat leaning against the counter, licking honey off my thumb between bites, letting the food ground me. They aren’t here, but they still are, in all the little ways. In the notes. The glass of water. The fact I’m not still in bed. They push me in ways that feel like being held. It's good, I get some people would find this weir