CEDRIC
I didn’t go home tonight. I couldn’t. The thought of stepping into that house, of being surrounded by memories of her, felt unbearable. For some crazy reason, everything about that place reminded me of Elara, and these past few days, the ache of missing her has only gotten worse.
Everywhere I look, she’s there. The kitchen island—where she used to sit, sipping coffee, lost in thought. The sofa in the living room—where she’d curl up with a book, throwing me annoyed glances whenever I distracted her. My bedroom—our bedroom—where her scent used to linger on the sheets, where her warmth used to be the last thing I felt before sleep claimed me. Even the shower isn’t safe from her ghost. I can still hear the faint echoes of her laughter, still feel the way she’d press her palm against t
