Sunlight streamed through the living room windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the hardwood floor. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the kind of day that should have been peaceful. Instead, my chest felt like it was trapped in a hydraulic press.
Leo was in the kitchen humming softly to himself, wearing a fitted dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants, preparing a marinade for afternoon lunch. Since he had gotten back from Chicago, he had been extra attentive, trying to bridge the emotional distance that had inexplicably crept between us. Every time he smiled at me, every time he casually reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, a toxic cocktail of guilt and panic threatened to swallow me whole.
I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly at my phone, when a
