ROME
The letters of the words stared back at me.
I could see them clearly. I could trace each curve of her handwriting, each stroke of the pen.
However, I could not believe they were there.
“This must be a joke,” I muttered under my breath, though the room was empty and no one was there to hear me.
My eyes moved over the lines again, absorbing words I did not want to absorb.
It had the answers to every possible question I could think of. However, it did not answer the question of why—why was there a goodbye at the last part of the letter?
My fingers tightened around the paper until it crumpled slightly in my grasp.
“No,” I said, this time louder.
I turned toward the door of my chamber and looked down the corridor toward her room.
It was closed.
That meant nothing.
She could s
