The morning after was not the fairy tale Amyra had prayed for.

She woke up to the sound of the shower running. The memory of last night—the rain, Aman’s tears, his gentle touch, and the way he had whispered "I’m sorry"—felt like a beautiful, hazy dream. She touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of his soft kisses. For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe the monster had finally changed.