Anna
I stopped for a second as I heard faint movement behind me, the soft scrape of a chair, the whisper of fabric shifting. For one fragile moment, I let myself hope, ridiculously, foolishly, that he would call my name. That he would stop me. That he would say something, anything, to undo what had just happened.
But then the door closed.
And silence followed.
Not the comforting kind we had shared minutes ago, but something heavy, suffocating, final.
I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as I realized my vision had blurred. I wiped at my cheeks, only then noticing the tears that had already fallen. I hadn’t even felt them come.
My feet moved on their own as I walked down the hallway, my body running on autopilot while my mind spiraled somewhere far behind.
My heart was pounding so loud
