Gianna.
And just like that, it was the weekend.
I’d been having small flashbacks, which annoyed the s**t out of me because I was eager to literally get my life back. I felt like a foreigner in my own memory. It was scary, standing behind a closed door, knowing if it opened I might not exactly like what I’d see—but it was a risk I was willing to take.
Roselyn still wandered behind my mind. Was she alive or dead? If she was alive, would she be looking for Ivan?
I brushed the thoughts off immediately. It was the least of my concerns. But I couldn’t help keeping a safe distance from Ivan—he was probably still in love with her, and I wasn’t about to cross a line I couldn’t get back from. I’d survived enough hurt.
I shoved my earpods in and stared at myself in the mirror, dressed in my usua
