Amara's POV :
I woke up to an empty apartment and remembered Sarah wasn't coming back.
Not permanently maybe, but not anytime soon either. Her bedroom door was open, bed made, some of her clothes still in the closet but the important stuff gone: scrubs, favorite jacket, the photo of us from college that used to sit on her nightstand.
She'd really left.
I sat on the edge of my bed staring at nothing, the silence heavier than it should've been. Sarah had been my buffer for six years, the person who made me eat when I forgot, who listened when I needed to vent, who told me when I was being stupid.
Now she was gone and it was my fault.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up our messages. The last one was from three days ago: "seriously?" when I'd crashed her car while doing groceries.
I started typing half a dozen texts and deleted them all.
*I'm sorry* felt empty.
*Come back* felt selfish.
*You were right* felt like giving up.
I set the phone down and went to make coffee instead.
