Colton's visa finally expired.
Like a bad show that had dragged on far too long, the curtain was forced down, and he slunk back to the States.
But he clearly hadn't given up.
My social media, my email, even messages relayed through friends back home, all of it was peppered with his "heartfelt confessions" and "repentance journals."
Endless monologues about how he was a walking corpse without me, how he'd changed, how he thought of me day and night.
I deleted every single one without reading past the first line.
His suffering couldn't stir a single ripple in me anymore.
The exchange year flew by.
I wheeled my suitcase back onto familiar ground, but the person stepping off the plane was someone entirely different.
A year of independence and real growth had made me sharper, steadier,
