Michelle closed the door behind her with a soft, deliberate click, as though any louder sound might shatter what little composure she had left.
She leaned her forehead against the wood, one hand braced against the doorframe, the other clenched tightly at her side. Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, breath scraping her lungs like she had run for miles instead of walked down a quiet hallway.
She had done it.
She had finally said it out loud.
And now she hated herself for it.
Slowly, she pushed away from the door and crossed the room, every step heavy, every movement drained of purpose. The guest room felt smaller than it had an hour ago. The walls pressed in on her, the air thick with memories she had spent ten years burying under ambition, distance, and silence.
She sank onto t
