ROMAN
At first, it was just… restlessness.
Not the normal kind. Not the kind that comes from boredom or having too much energy and nowhere to put it.
This was different. It sat under my skin, subtle at first, like a low hum I could almost ignore if I tried hard enough.
But the longer I stayed still, the louder it got—pressing, building, demanding something I didn’t yet know how to give.
I shifted on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my fingers flexing unconsciously against the sheets. My body felt tight, like something inside me was stretching against its limits. My chest rose and fell a little faster than usual, and I couldn’t tell if I was anxious or… something else.
I swallowed, dragging a hand down my face.
“What is this…”
I already knew.
Or at least, I had an idea.
The full
