returned. For a moment, she kept her eyes shut, savoring the lingering warmth of the night before-the stolen touches, the soft murmurs, the way his lips had claimed hers like they belonged there. B

ed. Her heart raced with every movement, half-expecting him to stir. But he didn't. His breathing remained steady, his face relaxed, and for a fleeting moment, she envied his peace. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she tiptoed around the room, gathering her things. She found her dress crumpled on the chair where he'd tossed it so carelessly last night, her shoes scattered at the foot of the bed. Her clutch sat on the dresser, a lonely reminder of the girl she'd been when she walked into the ball. As she slipped into her dress, her eyes flicked back to the bed. She hadn't even learned his name. Not that he'd offered it. He'd been perfectly content to remain her enigmatic stranger, and she'd let him. It had felt thrilling at the time, a shared rebellion against the predictable lives they both led outside this suite. But now, it felt unfinished. Her gaze caught on the notepad on the bedside table. For a moment, she debated leaving without a word, letting the silence speak for itself. But then, something inside her shifted. He deserved at least a goodbye, even if it wasn't in person. She picked up the pen, her fingers trembling as she scribbled a quick note on the crisp white paper: Thank you for a night I'll never forget. Sometimes it's better not to know the whole story. -E She folded the note in half and placed it carefully on the pillow beside him. Her hand lingered there for a moment, her heart aching with a strange mix