I've lost count of how many times Damian's name has flashed on my phone.

At first, I stared at every message, my thumb hovering over "reply." Now, I don't even open them. I just... stare. Watch them pile up. Like guilt, like regret.

He's texted I'm sorry.

Then Please, Elena, let's talk.

Then It's not what you think.

And the one that nearly broke me: I still love you.

Love. That stupid, heavy, useless word.

I toss my phone onto the bed, hearing it bounce against the sheets, and press the ...