SIENNA’S POV

The morning sunlight stretched across my bedroom floor like a quiet farewell. Dust motes shimmered in the golden light, swirling in lazy patterns over boxes stacked near the door. Every corner of the room looked smaller now, stripped of the chaos of living. The photographs were gone, the books packed, the memories folded into cardboard and tape. What remained were the echoes of laughter, arguments, whispered dreams that no longer belonged to this house.

I sat cross-legged on the ...