As I got into my car, the scent of Simbu lingered everywhere.
My mind was filled with thoughts of him, and my heart ached from the emptiness he left behind. Somehow, I made it home, but I had no memory of the drive.
When I walked in, my mom asked me something, but her words didn’t register. Unable to respond, I went straight to my room.
I changed out of my dress and paused for a moment, inhaling the faint trace of his smell on the fabric. Instead of tossing it into the laundry, I carefully folded it and placed it in my wardrobe.
Looking at the time, I realized Simbu was likely still flying. Exhausted, I fell onto my bed and drifted into a deep sleep.
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The Next Morning
When I woke up, it was already 11 a.m. I grabbed my phone and saw two messages from Simbu.
The first read: “Reac
