I've been sitting in the dark since I got home. The curtains in my room are wide open, but I don't care. The sky outside is a cold navy blue, clouds crawling past the moon like slow thoughts. I hear the low buzz of streetlamps from outside, the occasional hum of passing scooters, the rattle of someone's window slamming shut.
But inside me, there's nothing. Just the deafening silence of old pain resurfacing.
I should be working on Theo's project. He was so gentle yesterday. The way our pinkies touched, the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to protect without smothering. And Professor Tyson's group assignment—God, I haven't even opened the message. I just left them all on read.
I don't want to move. I don't want to think. I don't want to feel anything except this ache blooming across my chest, stretching down into my stomach like a rot I can't purge.
