EMILIA
PRESENT TIME
I wake up with a sharp breath, like I’ve just hit the surface after drowning.
He's gone again.
My chest rises and falls like I’ve been running, chasing something I can’t have. I don’t scream, even though I want to. The pain sits there, right beneath my ribcage, steady and sharp.
I feel the wetness on my face. My pillow is soaked. I’m not surprised — I don’t even try to wipe the tears away this time. I just lie there in the silence, with my eyes closed letting the ache settle.
Letting the cloud of nostalgia and longing pass so I can finally remember where I am.
Where I’m supposed to be.
But I don’t fall apart.
Not like I used to.
I take a deep breath and put a hand over my chest, like I’m trying to hold myself together. The grief is still there. It probably alw
