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    Sienna’s POV


    I woke up this morning with a wide smile on my face, whether from a good night’s sleep or the sound of the waves crashing gently in the distance, I didn’t know. Sunlight streamed through the thin white curtains that


    swayed softly in the sea breeze. Its warmth touched my skin, waking me from a long slumber free of tears or


    worries.


    This small apartment is still quiet. Still new. Still unfamiliar. But it is precisely that unfamiliarity that makes


    this ce feelforting. No yelling. No demands. No disappointment creeping in between forced affections.


    I lifted myself from the bed and sat at the edge, hugging my knees. Outside the window, the beach stretched


    wide, blue and peaceful. The salty wind slipped in, carrying the scent of the ocean-a scent that reminded me of


    both freedom and loneliness. But not the suffocating kind. More like… a silence I chose.


    I took a deep breath, letting the morning air fill my lungs. It felt clean. Not like the breaths I used to take each


    morning in that other house-heavy with pressure, with expectations I could never fulfill. Here, I could


    breathe. Really breathe.


    Slowly, I stood and walked to the window, drawing the curtain fully open. The morning light greeted my face—


    blinding, yet warm. The sea in the distance looked calm, its wavesing and going in a rhythm that almost


    soothed the heartbeat I’d grown used to hearing race.


    There was no rush today. No schedule. No sudden responsibilities. No name I needed to protect, except my own.


    And it felt… strange. But also freeing.


    My phone was still off, lying on the small table beside the bed. It had been three days. Three days since I left


    that house. Three days since I pulled my small suitcase past the gate without looking back even once. I took only a few clothes, a few memories, and a heart too heavy to carry.


    I walked slowly to the table, sat down, and stared at the ck screen of my phone. It felt odd-like that device


    held


    my entire old world, the one I so badly wanted to forget. But also the tiny world I loved so deeply.


    My eyesnded on a small photo frame next to a vase of flowers. I picked it up.


    Me and Noah. His smile in that photo was so wide, his round eyes sparkling, my arms wrapped tightly around him from behind. We were baking together that day. Noahughed when he saw flour all over my face.


    I brushed my thumb over the ss. Something stirred in my chest. A wound that hadn’t healed. A longing I


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    couldn’t put into words.


    “Noah…” I whispered, barely audible.


    I missed him.


    I missed his voice calling me “Mommy” with that bright smile. Missed the way he would curl up in myp, telling stories only he found magical. But it was a longing I couldn’t follow. Because I knew if I saw him now, I


    wouldn’t be able to walk away again. And my heart wasn’t ready to return to that same hell.


    Not because of Noah. But because of everything else.


    I could only hope that, wherever he was, he was okay. That Liam, at least this time, would step up as a real father. That Noah wasn’t sick. That he wasn’t crying, looking for me.


    That even without my arms around him, he still knew I loved him.


    I inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean air fill my lungs again. It felt like trying to calm a storm that never


    stopped roaring inside my chest. But the storm remained. Quiet, but always ready to strike.


    “Noah…” I whispered again, my eyes now wet. “I’m sorry Mommy can’te home yet.”


    My hand reached for the small photo frame I had brought from day one. An old picture, taken on Noah’s third


    birthday. He wasughing among balloons and chocte cake, while Liam and I stood behind him, smiling… or pretending to smile. I can’t tell anymore.


    I touched his little face with the tip of my finger. A drop of water fell onto the ss surface, but I didn’t wipe it


    away. Let it be. Let the tears serve as a reminder-not of weakness, but of truth.


    I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and made myself a cup of instant coffee. No fancy aroma like at the old house. Just cheap sachet coffee-bitter, but warm. Sipping it slowly, I stepped onto the balcony again and looked out to the wide sea. The waves kepting and going, as if indifferent to the hidden pain people carry onnd.


    My mind drifted back to Liam. I didn’t know if he was looking for me. If he understood why I left-or hated me for it. But I didn’t leave out of revenge, or to hurt anyone. I left… because I needed to heal.


    From the exhaustion. From the wounds. From the small lies that slowly killed the love I had.


    “I’m sorry, Noah,” I whispered again, a little louder. “Mommy just needs time. But I promise… one day we’ll meet again.”


    I don’t know when. But I’m keeping that promise. Like a small hope nted deep in my heart.


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    I looked at the sea once more before heading back in, cing the empty cup on the table and sitting down on the floor, hugging my knees. There was nothing I had to do today. No one waiting. But at least, I was still


    breathing. Still capable of missing. Still able to hope.


    Myptop sat open in front of me. The white screen ring-empty, not a single word typed. It had been like that for three days. Three days since I arrived at this apartment. Three days since I left that house, that life,


    those wounds. And in all that time, I hadn’t written a thing. My mind was frozen. My heart… numb.


    My fingers hovered above the keyboard, suspended-caught between a past that refused to let go and a future I


    couldn’t yet imagine. Every time I tried to type, my mind returned to the sound of the door I quietly closed that


    day. To the trembling steps I forced to stay steady. To the dragging of my suitcase across the tiled floor. To


    Noah’s silence-the silence of a child I never even got to hold onest time.


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