- Sean -
The fluorescent lights of the stadium office hummed above me, a constant reminder of the world I was trying to escape. I stared at my phone, fingers trembling, contemplating what an action as simple as dialing a number could mean—especially when that number belonged to Aria. How had it come to this? The distance we'd created felt both suffocating and strangely liberating. I could still remember her laugh, fingers dancing as they raked through my hair, and how effortlessly she'd managed to wrap me around her finger. Now, I felt like a feather blown away by a storm.
I had tried to call her earlier, wanting to bridge the gap that had widened with every passing day since Jamie sent me those articles from the French press. Each headline seemed to mock me, suggesting the unthinkable:
