The night air was sharp and cold as Aisha stepped outside.
The door closed softly behind her, but the silence that followed felt deafening.
Snow had begun to fall again—slow, drifting flakes that clung to her hair and lashes almost immediately.
She didn’t pull her coat tighter.
She barely noticed the cold.
Her chest ached too much.
She walked.
Past glowing windows.
Past laughter spilling out onto the street.
Past couples holding hands beneath Christmas lights.
Tears blurred her vision, spilling freely now that she was alone.
She pressed her sleeve to her face, trying to quiet the small, broken sounds escaping her throat, but they came anyway—sharp breaths, soft sobs she couldn’t stop.
You always fall for the wrong men.
My dad’s too good for you.
He pities you.
Each sentenc
