CELINE’S POV
The night air was cool as I walked toward Evan’s house one last time, my bag heavier than usual, not because of its weight but because of everything it meant. My heart pounded with every step. Leaving the pack was one thing—but leaving behind the only people who had shown me real kindness? That cut deeper than I’d expected.
When I knocked, Evan’s mother opened the door before I could even lower my hand. She pulled me into a warm hug so suddenly that my throat closed up.
“Come in, sweetheart,” she said softly, guiding me inside. The house smelled the same—warm bread, lavender, safety. A place I wished I could freeze in time and carry with me.
She led me to the kitchen table where an envelope already sat waiting. My stomach twisted.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice wary.
