She wasn’t wrong. I needed to do something. Anything.
I glanced around the room—the abandoned set of our relationship.
The first few days after it happened, I had stayed glued to my phone, masochistically scrolling through articles, social media posts, and comment sections.
At first, it was morbid curiosity. I wanted to know what people were saying. But then it became something else. A desperate need to see if anyone understood. If anyone would say, You did the right thing, Luna. He deserved it.
A few had. A lot hadn’t.
And now? I realized I’d descended to a really bad place.
I couldn’t even think about cooking without feeling nauseous.
I’d turned off notifications and avoided social media like it carried the plague.
After getting a text from my mom, suggesting I apply at the post office, I’d put her on mute too.
The only person I responded to was Ashley.
I closed my eyes, feeling my heart start to race, and trying just to breathe…
The public nature of the whole thing wasn’t even the worst of it. It was the fact that I’d been completely blindsided. There must have been some sign that I’d missed, some indication of what was happening, but in my mind, everything had been perfect. I should have seen it coming. Why hadn’t I seen it coming?
I just...I didn’t understand how I’d gotten to this place. I followed my heart and look where that got me.
If I couldn’t trust my instincts, then what could I trust?
Hours after Ashley’s call, I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, the blue light of my laptop casting vague shadows across the room.
My grandmother, my mom’s mom, had always told me I was an intuitive person—like her. She’d said I saw the world in ways the rest of my family couldn’t understand.
“Trust your heart,” she’d told me when I’d made the decision to strike out on my own instead of going to college like my mom wanted. “This is your life.”
I moaned, rolling onto my side. Because I had trusted my heart when it came to Leo. Of course, I had.
And…I’d been wrong.
About all of it.
I climbed out of bed and stumbled into the hall, trailing my fingertips along the textured walls.
I’d loved this place—carved out of a restored historical building from the 1790s. It had everything I wanted when I first moved in—location, history, and character.
Technically, Leo had bought it, but we’d picked it out together. He always called it our place, since we’d shared the payment.
He hadn’t kicked me out, exactly. No, he’d graciously offered to let me stay “a little while,” like it was some kind of favor. As long as I was willing to cover the entire mortgage.
Which we both knew was a joke—unless I wanted to burn through my savings just to prove a point.
So yeah. The clock was ticking. I needed to find somewhere else.
As if losing my fiancé, my career, and my confidence hadn’t already been enough…now I was going to lose my home, too.
My heart did that thing where it started beating faster and louder, making everything go out of focus. The air felt thin, useless, like I was breathing through a straw.
No. No. No. No…
I forced myself to pause and take a deep breath. Ignore the tingling in my hands.
