FREYA’S POV
As the golden rays of the morning sun cascaded through the windows, their gentle touch bathed the room in a warm glow. I stood amidst the remnants of what was once a sanctuary, the house that had cradled countless memories and witnessed our lives unfold. Now, it stood before me, an empty vessel, void of the laughter, tears, and love that had once resounded within its walls.
Debra moved with purpose and determination, diligently organizing our belongings. Her slender figure moved gracefully, her auburn locks dancing in the sunlight, as she delicately wrapped fragile mementos and tenderly packed them away. Each item held a story, a piece of our shared history, and as she meticulously safeguarded them for the journey ahead, I couldn't help but feel a bittersweet pang in my heart
