He gave me a curt nod and watched me climb down from the vehicle.
I took the next train to my mother’s apartment, and all through the ride, the weight of my choice pressed down on me. I knew this was the right thing to do and that I was on the right track. Pun intended. Yet I couldn’t stop wondering how this action might be affecting Adrik.
After months, I’d finally gotten the freedom I craved. But it didn’t come with the excitement I’d expected. Instead, it came with this gnawing pit in my stomach, this void that nothing seemed to fill.
The cab pulled up by the pavement and then drove away after dropping me off at my mom’s. I stood on the sidewalk, watching the small apartment building staring at me at a short distance.
I drew a deep breath and walked toward the building, my suitcase being dragged along the pavement. With a spare key, I unlocked the door, a wave of nostalgia hitting me as I strolled inside.
The place was quiet. Very quiet.
Everything was intact, and nothing was missing—well, except for the one woman who brought life to the house. My mom. This was going to be tougher than I imagined, living all by myself again in a house without a soul.
I took my things upstairs, settled in, and began cleaning up the place to clear my mind. I spent the next few hours thinking and brooding under the guise of cleaning. At the end of the day, I was mentally and physically exhausted.
After I was done, I had my bath, returned to the living room, and fell asleep on the couch.
***
A few months later, I was already starting to pick up the pieces of my old life. I’d gone back to school to finish my law courses, however different and difficult it was. For some reason, it seemed harder to fit back in after only a few months of being away.
With each passing day, that emptiness in my heart, that void, just kept getting bigger. Nothing could fill it. I was lonelier than ever. No friends. Nobody to talk to except my mother.
Unknowingly, I’d built a wall around me, one that kept people at a distance. Even those who tried to get close or ask where I’d been this whole time sensed that my energy was off. I wasn’t rude to anyone. I just didn’t like it when people asked me so many questions about my private life.
That day, after class, while minding my business as usual, a classmate approached me.
“Emi, hi,” he greeted me, materializing by my side.
“Hello,” I answered without slowing down, my eyes fixed across the busy hallway.
“You recognize me, right?”
“It’s Josh, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“What do you want?”
“You know you don’t have to be so cold all the time.”
“I know.”
He rushed over to my front, blocking my path.
I stopped in my tracks, my brows knitting together. “What’re you doing? Get out of my way.”
“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice low but laced with concern. “You disappear for months and then reappear as a completely different person.”
Glimpses of the violence and chaos I’d survived flashed in my head, reminding me of the world I left behind.
“Last time I checked, we’re not even close,” I said to him.
“We don’t have to be for me to notice. And I’m not the only one who has,” he answered. “I’m just the only one with the balls to say something about it.”
“Good for you.” I tried to pick up my pace.
“Emi.” He blocked me again. “This isn’t you.”
