I opened my eyes, feeling the sting before I even tried to move. The sunlight streamed in through the curtains, too bright, almost mocking. My body ached in places I couldn’t name, and the sheets felt like a trap, suffocating me. I glanced to the side, half-expecting to see Marco still lying there, but he was gone. Of course he was gone. I forced myself to sit up, wincing as I felt the bruises starting to form. My mind wandered, replaying fragments of last night, but I pushed them away. I wouldn’t break now, not over him. But when I stood, each step across the bedroom felt like a betrayal. This room, these walls—they used to feel safe. I stumbled out of bed, holding onto the wall for support as I made my way through the room. The house, once warm and filled with love, felt foreign and cold now. I quickly showered and changed avoiding the mirror all through. I passed by the nursery—the room we’d painted together when we were happy, laughing, believing in a future that now seemed a
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