As soon as I hit send, an overwhelming sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Noon tomorrow felt like a ticking time bomb. How could I possibly face Stella, knowing what had just happened? Knowing what had been happening?
I sat there, staring blankly at the screen, until another thought struck me—what if Nicolas told her first? What if he couldn’t handle the guilt and decided to come clean? My chest tightened, and I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of all the possibilities.
The silence in my apartment was oppressive. I couldn’t stay here, surrounded by memories of him, of us, of what had just transpired. I grabbed my coat and keys and headed out, desperate for the noise of the city to drown out the chaos in my mind.
The café I wandered into was quiet, its dim light
