My Code Was Your Grave
Language: en
I gripped the printed flight confirmation in my hand until my knuckles turned a ghostly white. This was supposed to be a surprise for Jackson Burke’s twenty-fifth birthday—a cross-country flight from New York to San Francisco to finally close the gap of our long-distance relationship. I had spent months planning this, thousands of miles for a single moment of joy. Then, a notification from the "Inner Circle" group chat shattered everything. Jackson had posted a photo. It was a shot of a rumpled, messy king-sized bed, the sheets tangled in a way that left nothing to the imagination. His…