*Eason*

The next day felt heavy as if the air itself carried the weight of everything that had happened between us. Lena had gone out as usual, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Too much space, too much time to think.

Walking home last night with that pocket knife in my hand and pointing it at Lena—what the hell had I been thinking? It was the worst decision I could’ve made. I should’ve known that it was Lena waiting for me in the house, not the ...