Lily Thompson
I’d made harder decisions in my life—signing away my pride in a contract, for one—but this one still knotted my stomach.
College.
It should have been simple. Choose a school, enroll, finish what I’d started before everything went to hell. But no matter how many shiny brochures I flipped through or how many “fresh start” articles I scrolled past online, one name kept coming back like a bruise I couldn’t stop poking.
My old college.
The place where everything began and ended. Where I laughed too loud in dorm hallways, scribbled notes I never got to use, kissed Ryan in stairwells when we were supposed to be studying. Where I first found out I was pregnant. Where he left me.
Part of me wanted to torch it, never set foot near those halls again.
But another part—the louder,
