The letter had been perfectly preserved, carrying the faint scent of a desiccant packet.
Torrin's familiar handwriting appeared before my eyes:
Vivian,
I hope this finds you well.
If you're reading this, it means seven full years have passed since I left.
They say that biologically, every cell in the human body is completely replaced within seven years.
The girl who sat in that mediation room with red, swollen eyes, hating me with everything she had, every single cell in her body has been renewed by now.
My tears finally fell onto the letter, bleeding the black ink into faint halos.
Leaving you was the most painful decision of my life. But I had no choice.
The only thing I could never let go of was Robert's hands, working in the dark.
So I left these seven years. These seven lett
