Nuru's POV
It was quite warm and the rays of the sun streamed through my window. The room had been too bright for it to still be morning. I had woken up at noon, something that had become the norm. I groggily reached for my phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen.
There it was—the message I had sent Damien last night—a simple greeting and a request if we could talk. It had been among the stream of many that I had unashamedly sent. Two long, agonizing months had passed since the first message, and Damien's response had never come. Maybe he had wanted me to take a hint, since I had not only chased him away but also refused to give him the chance to speak to me.
I regretted it every day, wishing I could turn back time to that morning. I would have done things pretty differently.
