Chapter 4

At home, I started packing. I had what looked like a lot of stuff, but most of it wasn't worth keeping—just trinkets and souvenirs.

The people were gone. Why hold onto the memories?

The clay figurine Andrew made for me? Straight into the trash.

Broken things could never be made whole again.

Garbage belonged in the garbage—whether it was things or people.

I surveyed the empty room with satisfaction. No trace of me left behind.

I felt free, like chains I'd carried for years had finally fallen away.

As I grabbed my two boxes to leave, Andrew walked in.

He…