Tristan’s P.O.V

And for the first time in months, I felt it—not the numbness that had kept me moving from one empty day to the next, but the ache underneath it. The ache of remembering everything I had, and everything I let slip through my fingers.

I stepped into the room like I had so many times before, only this time it hit different—quiet. Too damn quiet.

It was empty. Not just tidy—empty. Only two empty beds lay on different corners. The stickers on the walls ...