Emma's POV
I was finally alone in the new apartment on Saturday evening. The last box had been flattened and tucked neatly beside the recycling bin downstairs, and the scent of fresh paint—once sharp enough to sting—was now softening into the background. The newness of it all felt like a strange kind of quiet: not the hollow, oppressive silence of the old apartment, but a gentle, open one. A silence that held its breath with me, waiting to see what I would fill it with.
