TRACY
It was the seventh day of us being in this strange world.
Frankly speaking, it no longer felt like a dream. I was beginning to get used to waking up and seeing myself on the bamboo bed. I was getting used to wearing the long dresses Manila provided, and eating whatever was placed on the table.
Every day, Justin would say to me, "I'm sure Sir Garba will have good news for us" and I would nod in agreement. But the truth was neither of us believed it anymore.
"Tracy, I don't blame you," Justin let out, holding my hand. "I just want you to know you don't have to bother yourself about anything."
Here's the thing—I never actually told Justin that I felt responsible for us being here. But I knew he was aware that it hurt me beyond anything that I had dragged him into this. Damn, how
