The Weight of Walking Away
LAURA’S POV
The motel room smelled like damp linen and old cigarettes, but it was better than my mansion that brought memories of the nights I swept after prison.
It was the kind of place no one asked questions. Just handed over the key with eyes that didn’t care who you were or why you were running.
I sat by the window, hugging my knees, watching the rain streak down the glass like the world itself was grieving with me.
I hadn’t heard from him.
Not once.
No calls. No texts. No “come home.”
And maybe that was the cruelest answer of all.
Because I hadn’t left hoping he’d chase me.
But part of me… still wanted him to.
I curled tighter into myself.
Was this what freedom felt like?
Empty. Cold. Lonely.
The soft knock on my door startled me.
I stayed fr
