(Logan’s POV)
I’m still standing in Evelyn’s old room, frozen between time and memories, no longer dressed in the suit she crafted with the love I didn’t deserve.
The fabric is smooth, almost silky, with sharp lines and tailored precision that hugs my frame. It was sculpted just for me. Now, it lies dead in my arms, like a black void.
I never knew.
I didn’t care.
The scent of her still lingers faintly in this room, a mix of lavender and chamomile.
It hits me hard, a punch to the chest. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the burn that gathers behind them.
Damn it.
Why now?
Why am I only realizing what she meant to me when she's already slipping through my fingers?
I barely hear the soft knock on the door before Emma walks in without waiting for a response.
“What are you doin
