Sunday night I slept on a mattress in an empty bedroom, listening to the rain, feeling grief and strength intertwine inside my chest. I whispered goodbye to Aunt Evelyn’s house, promising that I would carry her resilience wherever I went.
Monday morning the sale closed. The money arrived in my account. The deed transferred. My name no longer belonged to that address. At noon I placed my luggage into a car service and watched the neighborhood pass by through rain streaked windows. I did not look back because memory was not a chain I intended to drag into my future.
At the airport I purchased a one way ticket to Denver Colorado, a city where a company had once offered me a job I declined because Kevin insisted his career came first. Now his career meant nothing to me.
When my plane landed and I turned on my phone, messages exploded across the screen. Missed calls from Kevin. From my parents. From Paige. From numbers I did not recognize. I turned off the device and removed the SIM card, leaving their voices locked behind silent glass.
In Raleigh, chaos unfolded.