The hollow, ringing silence of my apartment had never felt so liberating.
For weeks, I had carried the crushing weight of a conscience I didn't even deserve to have. Every stolen glance with Julian, every electrifying touch in the shadows of the executive office, had been poisoned by the gnawing, nauseating fear that I was breaking a good man’s heart. I had tortured myself, lying awake at night, drowning in a sea of undeserved guilt while Leo was three doors down playing house with Sarah, laughing about my "distracted" state behind my back.
The guilt didn't fade; it transmuted. It turned into pure, ice-cold fury.
I stood in my bedroom, pulling a simple black wool coat over my shoulders. My reflection in the mirror didn't look like a terrified girl caught between two worlds anymore.
