Chapter 127
Trista's POV
The following night, in France, after a long, grueling day at the healing center, I walked back to my apartment alone.
The night wind brushed against my neck; I instinctively pulled up my scarf, as if trying to shield myself from a certain hollowness.
Today was my birthday.
I'd been on the phone with my parents the entire walk back.
They had said, "We'll let you go now," several times, but they clearly couldn't bring themselves to actually hang up.
Their voices were careful, as if they were afraid one wrong word would cause me to collapse here in the night of a foreign land.
That restrained concern made my eyes sting.
I suddenly felt homesick—a sharp, physical ache in my chest.
I forced my tone to stay light, like I was recounting the most mundane detail
