64


    64


    Sienna’s POV


    It’s been a week since I left the city.


    50%


    A week since thest time I saw Noah and Liam.


    I woke up with a heavy head, as if I’d been wrapped all night in an invisible weight. The morning sunlight slipped in through the curtains of this small apartment, located not far from the shoreline. The sound of the waves, which used to be soothing, now felt


    more like a roar breaking my concentration.


    I sat at the edge of the bed, looking around.


    Silence.


    No Noah’sughter. No soft knocks on my bedroom door asking me to read a story. No Liam standing awkwardly, words caught on


    his lips.


    There’s only me, and this emptiness that refuses to leave.


    I pulled my knees to my chest, letting the crumpled nket wrap around me like a shield. Maybe this is what people mean when they say “a silence that’s too loud.” Because even though there’s no sound at all, my head is full of echoes-Noah’sughter, Liam’s heavy footsteps down the hallway, the soft sound of a door closing behind me the moment I decided to leave.


    My eyes stared nkly at the white wall ahead. There’s a small crack near the ceiling, forming an irregr line. Strangely, I traced the pattern of that crack with my gaze, as if searching for a hidden meaning. But all I found was the tightening weight in my chest.


    On the small table beside the bed, my phoney still. Its ck screen reflected a faint hint of morning light. I knew that if I touched it, there would be a list of missed calls. The same name. Different times. Like someone knocking on a door, but I kept


    hiding in the corner of the room.


    Iy my head back on the pillow, closing my eyes. But shutting them only made their faces appear more clearly. Noah-with his slightly messy hair and eyes full of trust. Liam-with a gaze carrying far too many unspoken things.


    I tried to steady my breathing, but my chest felt heavy, as if something was pressing from within. I wanted to stop thinking about them, but the thoughts were like wavesing again, and again, crashing against the shore of my consciousness until all that’s left is a longing with no ce to return to.


    At the foot of the bed, my bag stilly exactly as it had when I first arrived. I hadn’t fully unpacked. Maybe because I never truly intended to settle here. Or maybe because I was afraid that unpacking would mean admitting I had taken a step I couldn’t undo.


    I curled up tighter under the nket. From the window, the morning light grew brighter, but it felt foreign. The sunlight here is different from the one in the city. It’s warmer, yet somehow, its warmth can’t prate the cold lingering inside me.


    Time passed slowly. Seconds stretched long. I counted them unconsciously, like a child waiting for something uncertain.


    11:20 AM Tue 2 Sep


    64


    50%


    Outside, the sound of waves came again-rhythmic, unending. I used to find that soundforting. Now, it feels like a reminder that the world keeps going, without waiting for anyone.


    I hugged my pillow to my chest, burying my face in it. The scent of the fabric had mixed with a faint trace of salt, a sign that I was truly far from the ce I once called home.


    Maybe I could stay here until everything felt lighter. Or maybe I was just lying to myself-hoping time would heal me, when all I was doing was hiding.


    And for now… hiding was the only thing I could do.


    I nced at theptop still glowing on the small table in the corner of the room. My document was still open, the cursor blinking slowly at the end of thest paragraph. I had fallen asleep barely half an hour ago on the sofa, after staring nkly at words that


    felt empty of life.


    My writing could still move forward, yes. The words could still flow. But my heart wasn’t moving with them. Every paragraph felt like a formal attachment, not the outpouring it used to be. I knew my editor might still like it. But I knew it wasn’t me.


    With slow steps, I walked to the small kitchen and took two slices of bread, spreading them with strawberry jam. I also made a cup


    of ck coffee without sugar, the bitterness feeling far more honest than my life right now.


    I sat on the small balcony, gazing at the vast ocean. The morning breeze yed with my tangled hair I hadn’t bothered to fix. This apartment was beautiful-far from the city’s noise, far from memories, far from everything that hurt.


    But also… far from everything that made me feel alive.


    Something unsettled me. Something I couldn’t exin, even after a full week of trying to silence it with busyness, with writing,


    with walking on the sand as the sun almost set.


    Noah.


    The image of his face kept haunting me. Hisughter, the way he called me “Mommy” with such hope, and then… the disappointment in his eyes that night. I tried so hard to believe that leaving was the right decision. That I needed space to heal, to love myself without being constantly scratched by old wounds.


    But what if those wounds had already be part of my breath?


    I sipped my coffee slowly, letting the bitterness linger on my tongue. Maybe this was punishment. For staying too long in a


    rtionship that only made me shrink. For once loving someone who never truly opened the door for me.


    Since that night, his face had never truly left my mind. That small figure sitting in the corner of the sofa, hugging his knees, looking at me with questioning eyes. I could feel the fear in his gaze, as if he knew something would change, but didn’t understand why.


    I wanted to exin. I wanted to string together words gentle enough to make him understand that this wasn’t his fault. But my lips stayed shut that day. I chose silence, because I knew every sentence would be another knife stabbing my own heart.


    11:20 AM Tue 2 Sep


    64


    50%


    I wondered-did he look for me when he woke up? Did he still wait for me toe into his room at night, to read him stories until


    his eyes closed? Or… had he started to forget my voice?


    The thought made my chest tighten. There was a strange fear I had never felt before: the fear of being forgotten by someone who


    once loved me unconditionally.


    I took another sip of coffee, though it had gone cold. Small memories began to surface, rushing in like relentless waves that


    wouldn’t let me breathe. Noah’sughter when I carried him at the park, his little hand always searching for mine when crossing


    the street, even the way he slipped a toy dinosaur into my bag, saying, “So Mommy won’t be alone.”


    GET IT N…


    11:20 AM Tue 2 Sep