Page 204 of Kentrell

My bag sat untouched.

But there… folded neatly on the edge of the bed…

A pair of black silk pajama pants.

And a soft white tee.

Tags still attached.

New. Just for me.

He’d thought of everything.

And somehow… that made my stomach knot tighter.

Because the more I saw of this man…

The more I realized…

I didn’t know him at all.

Wrapped in the oversized towel, I slipped into the new pajamas Kentrell had left folded on the bed—soft as clouds, smooth against my skin, and just snug enough to cling where it mattered.

The fabric whispered against my thighs as I climbed beneath the crisp white sheets.

The mattress…

God…

It hugged me like it knew how tired I was. Like it had been waiting on me to finally fall apart in peace.

But rest wouldn’t come easy.

The weight of the day pressed down at once.

Grief.

Shock.

Rage.

And under all that…

That slow, simmering ache of betrayal.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Again.

I sighed, already knowing who it was.

Twenty-three missed messages. Four voicemails. The group chat lighting up like I was the main character in a story I didn’t ask to star in.

Mars

ZOEEEEE. WTF.

Ayesha

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