<b>148 </b>


    Sienna’s POV


    Myptop was open in my work chair, and I stood there with half–written sentences on it, as if someone was pushing me. My fingers were no longer holding the keyboard and I was not typing. The tone of Liam’sughter, warmth in his voice during the conversation about Noah’s y in the park, the ball that almost fell into theke, and our young boy‘ Smile as he blew soap bubbles all caught my attention.


    I smiled faintly, then exhaled. Without warning, the yearning was like a falling wave. Despite my desire to hug and kiss Noah’s hair, the thought of going home made me almost stand on my seat.


    But I stopped myself. I found myself staring at theptop screen, as it remained nk for most of the remaining paragraphs. There, the cursor red at me in jest, saying that I couldn’t finish even one sentence properly. My body washed away from the chair as I pressed down on it.


    How many years have gone by since myst encounter? Since I left home for two weeks, It’s been two weeks since I told Liam that I needed time to “put myself back together,” but my current behavior involves looking at a nk screen and trying to write, without any real motivation or direction.


    It seemed to me that being alone would bring relief. That ce would allow me to grasp my true desires. The sound of Noah’s voice over the phone and Liam‘ alleged small antics caused me to feel uneasy. However, this disturbed me once more.


    “He beseeches you,” Liam had previously expressed.


    A slender sentence with a profound meaning. It.


    I closed myptop slowly. The apartment was too small and it seemed very quiet. The ticking clock and the slight breeze blowing through the window were the only sounds heard. I gazed at the untidy desk, surrounded by a cold cup of coffee and stacks of papers and apanied by an image of Noah between my notes. It was quite disorganized.


    I reached for the photo. With me, Noah wasughing with his cheeks covered in ice cream. It was like that. It was captured at the park a few months ago. We still looked like aplete family at that time. It reminded me of the vani ice cream aroma on my shirt and Liam’s soft, winking face gazing at us from afar.


    After biting my lower lip, I whispered, “Noah, oh my God, you are so precious Mommy.” Then it went back to the drawing board.


    It was not about escaping from them, but rather from my own self. There was a fear that I couldn’t make out with Liam, that either I wasn’t good enough as he is not. Noah’sughter over the phone caused all those fears to fade.


    I got up and headed towards the window. The bustling city street below was visible to me from the eighth floor. While I stood here without a reason, people were walking too fast. Maybe it was time to stop running.


    Then I twisted, holding my phone against the desk. Despite everything, Liam’s final message read.


    [He still talks about you today.]


    148


    For an extended period, I gazed at the words and eventually grinned. “Liam, you know how to make me feel inclined to return home.” I muttered. Then he lifted my head. It was almost like that.


    My heartbeat quickened. This was the first step towards something I hadn’t fully grasped yet. Nevertheless, there was some light in my chest after several weeks. What could it be?


    I nced back at myptop. The cursor was still blinking.


    This time, I didn’t approach it with drained eyes. I breathed deeply and began typing, not writing about my job, but about a woman who is slowly resolving her self–forgiveness.


    But then I stumbled upon theptop monitor. Thest line of my chapter was right there.‘ The final chapter would be the one that determined whether or not this story was worth entering thepetition. The deadline was close. Time was running out.


    I stooped down, shutting my eyes. This inquiry repeated, do you think I should go home and dy the writing? Do you have to finish something first and then go home? Or do you just leave it right after?


    The answer was more intricate than just deciding on one. I understood this. Writing wasn’t just work. There were other factors besides the contest. My writing was a means of understanding and breathing, as well as my way ofprehending pain. Noah was my physical embodiment.


    It split my mind in half, between a mother’s desire to hold her son and rejoicing in thepletion of writing her


    own work.


    Upon opening my eyes once more, I focused on the blinking cursor. The words felt frozen. My hand held the mouse, then I dragged it off.” I felt like my writing would never beplete without the presence of Noah’s face.


    I stood up, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain. The sound of the waves was peaceful, and the sea was a bright blue color, but I felt emptiness in everything. That home, Liam’s house, Noah’s ce, all ces I could feel alive even when they were uncertain.


    My eyes welled up with tears as I pondered. I quickly wiped them away.


    I muttered, “Sienna, you’re a writer.” The ss appeared to catch my eye.


    You’re supposed to finish stories. Why are you losing your mind to the emotions of others? <fn0339> This update is avable on </fn0339>


    But was it really losing? Is it a sign that I was finally starting to grasp the significance of my life?


    Once again, I attempted to type. I discarded one sentence after it appeared. One paragraph emerged, but it was a nk canvas. I sighed in frustration. It was a puzzle that had only half its parts.


    I lowered my head, holding my face tightly. There was nothing more I could feel but craving. The longedness went through my whole being, an indescribable thought.


    I wanted to go home. I wanted Noah. I even wanted Liam.


    Then Livia’s face reminded me of my editor, who had always been a loyal customer. My best friend, Liliana, is also my closest friend who always supports my career. I had reached this point, and my longing for it kept me from ending it. The challenge for me was to prove to myself that I had the ability toplete this.


    148


    Just one more chapter, Sienna.


    Onest chapter.


    I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and yed gentle songs–things that were typicallyforting for writing. Later on, my fingers began to move. It was slowly flowing, sentence by sentence. I was still in a state of pause and uncertainty, but I had found ways to move forward.


    I was re–reading about Liam while typing. During our earlier hang up, we could hear his calm yet lively voice. He spoke without a hint of disbelief about how much he missed me.


    X