Her building looked the same. Familiar. Comforting. The hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution and old carpet.
Her door was unlocked.
I pushed it open slowly and stepped inside.
Then I froze.
The living room was unrecognizable. Boxes lined the walls. Pastel ribbons spilled out of bags. Tiny clothes lay folded and unfolded across the floor, socks no bigger than my palm scattered everywhere.
For a horrifying second, my mind jumped to the worst conclusion. That the loneliness had finally broken her. That the years she spent sacrificing everything for me had left her unmoored.
I whispered her name.
She looked up from the floor, tears clinging to her lashes, and smiled.
“Surprise,” she said softly.
The Truth I Wasn’t Expecting
Continue reading…
