The ride to Sofia’s apartment was a blur of silent tears. I kept my forehead pressed against the window. Every block that took me farther from the penthouse felt like another crack in my chest. I had walked out. Actually walked out. Not in a dramatic storm, but with quiet finality that hurt worse than any shouting match.
Sofia’s building came into view too soon. I paid the driver and dragged my suitcase up the stairs. By the time I reached her door, my arms were shaking and my eyes were swollen.
She opened it before I could knock, like she had been waiting. One look at my face and she pulled me inside without a word, wrapping me in one of those bone-crushing hugs only Sofia could give.
“Baby girl, what the hell happened?” she asked, voice soft but urgent. She took my suitcase and led me
