Hana
I sank back onto the bed, the yielding mattress offering little comfort to the heavy burden of sadness. It weighed upon my chest like an unforgiving storm cloud that had no intention of shifting, every breath a mute struggle against the pain that refused to release its hold.
Stephen was never mine.
He never had been—and he never would.
I couldn't help but forget that harsh, simple truth. Like a scar that refused to heal, I caught myself going back to that perilous hope over and over again, as though this time things would be different. As though wishing desperately enough would warp destiny. But no matter how often I imagined him remaining, taking my hand, speaking of a future that we owned. it always faded.
He was being engaged.
The words resonated in my head with the empty fin
