ILIANA’S POV — The weekend rolls around faster than I can clean out Nolan’s s**t out of my house. I sit defeated in his bedroom, his clothes pooling out of the overflowing boxes. My legs are crossed, my back braced against the wall below the window next to the bed, and I just stare ahead at the wall, contemplating on hiring someone to do this, to rid me of the ache in my chest. He moved his stuff in after our engagement, and he has his own room here. Some nights we shared my King sized bed, but when he got drunk, this is where he slept, which was almost every weekend. To think of it, he spent more time here with his Xbox than he spent time with me. My phone rings, and my head slowly turns toward the nightstand beside me, where it’s vibrating through the wood. I reach up, exhausted. Non