TEARS AND KISSES

I entered my apartment to meet an atmosphere bereft of comfort, for it had been pierced by the festering ache since the day I had come there to seek refuge from my ex-boyfriend, who had chosen my sister over me.

Such an unexpected rejection had weighed heavy upon my shoulders, like something one could feel as a burden one was carrying but could not shake off. I closed the door behind me and the soft click of the lock, in the midst of that silence, reverberated like a reminder of my isolation.

Every step that I took, and each breath I made, felt like a chore—as if my heart was dragging me down, refusing to let her move on. What had been happy, treasured memories of my time with Noah now tortured me, existing only to remind me of what I had lost and what my sister had gained.

It was as though the pain was a living, breathing thing, heavy in the air and weighing me down, making it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to be. It was overwhelming to me, but there was no other way out of the