By the time morning comes, I’ve already made up my mind.

The sun spills through the curtains, painting the room gold, but it feels too bright, too loud, like the world has no idea what fell apart inside me. The ache in my chest hasn’t gone away; it’s just dulled, replaced by a strange calm. The kind that comes when you stop fighting what’s already over.

I stand in front of the mirror, staring at the woman reflected there.

Her eyes are puffy, her hair tangled, her skin pale, but ...