The Weight of Leaving
I didn’t sleep that night.
The rain beat against my window, relentless, as if the sky itself was trying to drown out the noise in my head. But nothing could quiet the storm inside me.
Asher had let me go.
Not just let me—he had stood there, watching me walk away, and he hadn’t done a damn thing to stop me.
That should have made it easier.
It didn’t.
Dottie would get her perfect wedding. My father would get the son-in-law he’d always wanted. And me?
I’d be a ghost.
Because I meant what I said—I wasn’t staying.
I didn’t belong here. I never had.
—
Packing was easier than I expected.
Most of my life had already been lived on the outskirts, never fully rooted, never truly home. It didn’t take long to shove my clothes into a duffel, to gather what little I own
