Gianna
The morning of the tour came faster than I expected. One minute it was Tuesday, the next I was dragging my small suitcase down the stairs, half-awake, half-nervous, and fully convinced this trip would either reset my brain… or make everything worse.
Mum was already waiting in the car when I stepped outside. The trunk popped open automatically, and I tossed my bag inside before sliding into the passenger seat.
“Ready?” she asked, smiling like someone who’d had two cups of coffee already.
“I guess,” I muttered.
She started the engine. The drive to the airport wasn’t very long, but she acted like it was some emotional goodbye-forever moment. Her hand kept brushing my hair away from my face, and eventually she sighed softly.
“I hope you actually enjoy this trip, Gia. You need it.
