Grace
It had been almost a week since Dylan’s death, but time had lost all meaning. The days blurred into each other, each one heavier than the last, weighed down by a suffocating emptiness that I couldn’t escape. I could barely eat, barely sleep, barely breathe without him. It felt as though the world had tilted off its axis, leaving me adrift in a sea of grief that threatened to swallow me whole.
He was gone.
The thought echoed in my mind, relentless and cruel, carving deeper into the black hole that had opened in my chest. Dylan, my mate, my future, the man who had been my anchor, was gone. Every corner of the packhouse reminded me of him - his laughter that used to echo through the halls, his scent that lingered on the pillow beside mine, his voice that had been my constant reassura
