EMBER’S POV
I lock the door behind me and lean against it, pressing my palms flat against the cool wood, trying to remember how to breathe.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Slow.
Knox’s voice echoes in my head, grounding me even when he’s not here, and I cling to it like a lifeline.
The tears come anyway.
Not the hysterical sobs I was expecting, but something quieter. Slower.
Tears that leak down my cheeks in steady streams, carrying with them years of grief I never let myself feel.
For the girl I used to be. For the life I could have had. For the baby I lost and the dreams that died with it.
I cry for all of it, silently, my shoulders shaking, my reflection in the mirror looking back at me with mascara-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.
I look like a disaster.
I fee
