Isla’s POV
I don’t sleep, not really.
I lie there beside Zayne, staring into the darkness, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. Every time I close my eyes, it comes back.
His voice: I might be the one who killed him.
My chest tightens again just thinking about it. So I stopped trying to sleep. By the time the first hint of morning light filters through the curtains, I’m already sitting up, my phone in my hand, my mind racing in too many directions at once.
Zayne shifts beside me. “Isla…” His voice is rough with sleep.
“You’re awake.”
“I didn’t sleep,” I admitted.
He pushes himself up slightly, blinking at me. “You should’ve woken me.”
“And said what?”
I glance at him. “Hey, I can’t stop thinking about whether you killed my da
