13. Tiana
The room felt unfamiliar the moment I walked in, not because anything changed but because I had.
I stood in the middle of the bedroom I shared with Genova for three years and stared at the bed quietly. The sheets were still slightly wrinkled from that morning. His jacket lay carelessly across the chair near the window. My sketchbook remained on the nightstand beside his watch.
These were all little pieces of us, or at least the version of us I spent years believing in.
Now everything felt strange and distant like I was looking at someone else’s life. Behind me, Genova exhaled sharply.
“You’re seriously doing this.”
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I walked toward the closet and pulled out one of my suitcases. The zipper sounded too loud in the silence.
“Tiana!”
“I sa
