The Weight of What Remains
The journey home felt longer than it should have. Lena walked slowly along the narrow street, her small bag hanging loosely from her shoulder. The world around her moved like nothing had changed...cars passed, people talked, life carried on but she felt out of place.
Like she had stepped into the wrong life.
Like she was in a place where she didn't belong.
The sun was warm against her skin, yet she couldn't shake the lingering chill beneath it. Her fingers brushed lightly against the ring.
She exhaled slowly and kept walking.
When she finally reached the small apartment building, she paused at the entrance, staring at the slightly worn door like it belonged to someone else. Then she pushed it open.
The familiar creak echoed faintly. "I'm home" she called out.
Silence answered. Her brows pulled together slightly. "Amy?"
No response.
The apartment was quiet, there was no sign of movement, no sound from the kitchen, no soft humming. Nothing.
