I walked back to my suite.
I didn’t run. I was done running.
But I walked fast, and by the time I pushed through the door my hands were already moving to the wardrobe, pulling it open, and reaching for the bag on the top shelf.
I set it on the bed then stood there looking at it.
The suite looked back at me.
Books in four languages. The exact brand of green tea. The photo of my parents on the nightstand, placed where I would see it first thing, because he’d thought about what I would need before I had even known I needed it.
She needs to be worth keeping.
I opened the bag.
My hands were shaking. Not from fear. No, I was past fear.
From the specific exhaustion of someone who had been here before and knew exactly how this went.
You tried. You let yourself want it. You started t
