Page 162 of Dream On, Liar

Cold.

I opened the bedroom door.

The cabin stretched ahead of me, all dark timber and enormous windows, the trees outside blurred behind a sheen of rain. In the morning light, everything looked softer than it had the night before.

And strange.

Eerie, almost.

But not frightening.

There was something beautiful about the stillness.

No traffic.

No phones ringing.

No voices drifting through neighbouring flats.

No London sirens slicing through the night.

Just trees.

Rain.

Wood.

Space.

It reminded me of the place I’d dreamed about escaping to.

I walked barefoot into the kitchen, the dim light guiding me as I moved slowly to pour myself a glass of water.

The sound of water filling the glass seemed disproportionately loud in the quiet.

I drank.

Then drank again.

My eyes wandered towards the large windows, from where I stood, even in the dark, the forest looked endless.

I took another sip, my eyes finally drifting to the small lamp that was lit in the corner in the living room.

I frowned, placing the glass on the counter gently. I moved until I was far enough the room to notice him sitting on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting against his knees.

His head was bowed, his hands were clasped loosely between them as he stared at the floor.

“Hey.” I stopped as his eyes met mine slowly.

They were red, not the kind you got from a lack of sleep, but the ones you got from crying.

Something tightened painfully inside my chest. “Rihaan?”

For a second, something defensive flickered across his face, before it vanished.

I took a step closer. “Are you okay?”

He gave a small laugh that didn't sound anything like amusement. “Yeah.”