FREYA'S POV
The decision to visit my old apartment felt like a journey into the heart of memories, a realm where echoes of the past lingered in the air. The familiar scent of the place wrapped around me as I entered, each step a walk with uncertainty of moments that had long slipped through the fingers of time.
In the quiet solitude of the apartment, Marshall's presence seemed to whisper from the walls, conjuring images of our shared moments and glances. The play of light through the curtains — everything became a portal, transporting me back to a time when our connection felt tangible.
My mind, like a compass, led me to the night I had burned the letter, a letter that had served as a bridge between our worlds. The flames had consumed his words, a silent plea that drew him to my doorste
