(Angel’s POV)
After Jonathan disappeared into the next room, leaving behind a few words that stung more than they soothed, I walked out quietly and pulled the door shut behind me.
I stood on the porch of No. 7 Marigo Street, the early morning air sweeping past my skin, cool, indifferent, and offering no comfort. Just a stillness that settled in like a novel yet to be finalized.
I didn’t move right away. I let the silence wrap around me, my gaze drifting aimlessly while his final words echoed through my mind like the sound of a cymbal unwilling to fade away.
Don’t come back with apologies. Come back with something real.
He hadn’t asked me to stay. He hadn’t told me to leave either. I was suspended in a space between, like standing on the edge of a fraying thread.
His words were hones
