When I finally returned to the packhouse, I didn’t bother acknowledging anyone. I went straight to my bedroom, locking the door behind me with a deliberate force that made it clear I wanted no interruptions. To be safe, I reinforced the barriers between my room and the rest of the house, ensuring that Dwight—or anyone else who might have thought of barging in—would be stopped. Right now, I couldn’t face him. The pain of what I had discovered earlier was still fresh, raw, and pulsating through my chest like a knife twisting deeper with every thought. I needed time—time to gather myself, to rebuild the pieces of my heart before I allowed anyone, even Dwight, to touch it again.
I refused to show him my true feelings, because doing so would mean admitting defeat. I could not let him believe m
