Serenity
The room felt like it was closing in on me.
I couldn’t explain why, but the longer I stood there, the more suffocating it became. Maybe it was the emptiness of the space, or maybe it was the fact that I had never truly made it my own. Not in the way I had always dreamed of. Not in the way I needed it to be.
I had walked into this room months ago with nothing but a suitcase and a promise to be someone I wasn’t. A perfect wife. A perfect image. But now, as I looked around at the walls—bare, cold, and untouched—I realized I had never truly lived here. I had existed here. I had played my part, but I hadn’t been me.
Today, though, was different. Today, I was going to change it. Even if it was just this one small thing.
I’d been avoiding this room for so long, but now, standing in
