Page 50 of Before Dawn

“No,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I need to do this now.”

“You sort, and I’ll pack and label so we move faster,” Aurora suggested.

“Sounds good.”

I dove into packing, but the weight of the moment pressed down on me like a heavy fog.

I was really leaving.

I was really moving on.

Sadness, anger, relief, and fear tangled inside me as I wrapped each item in paper or bubble wrap. Every piece carried a weight beyond its physical form—the coffee mug from our first vacation, the blanket we once curled up under, the books we read late into the night. Ghosts of a past I was finally ready to leave behind.

For the first time, I let the reality sink in—he would never have me again.

But instead of breaking me, the thought settled like quiet closure, lighter than I expected.

Time blurred, and before I knew it, two and a half hours had passed. We were still at it.

“We’ve been at this for a while,” Aurora murmured, stretching with a soft yawn. “I’m grabbing us lunch.”

“Where?”

“Shake Shack!” She grinned. “I’ve been dying for a burger. Your order’s the same, right?”

I nodded. “It is. Thank you.”

As she left, I focused on packing the last two boxes, letting Mikkel’s interview play softly in the background. It had popped up as a suggested video—probably due to my recent searches—but I didn’t mind. His voice was steady, assured, and… comforting in a way I couldn’t explain.

Sorting through my clothes and shoes, I set aside anything in good condition to donate. Then, stretching my sore muscles, I wandered into the hallway. My gaze landed on a framed photo of us—an illusion of happier times. But that was never our reality.

Just a façade I had clung to.

I had settled for scraps of affection, convincing myself they were enough when I deserved so much more.

With a quiet exhale, I placed the photo back on the wall, but a voice behind me made me freeze.

“What’s going on, babe?”

I turned.

Joshua stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m leaving,” I said, forcing myself to sound casual despite the irritation crawling up my spine.

“Leaving?” His gaze flickered around the room, as if just now realizing the half-packed boxes. “You’re going on another trip?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “A permanent trip.”

Something in me expected a reaction. Shock. Regret. Maybe even a sliver of sadness. But his face remained unreadable.

And then, to my utter lack of surprise, he shrugged.

“I’ll see you later, then.” He stepped past me, grabbing a coat off the hook. “Came to get this.”

A bitter scoff escaped before I could stop it.

“This is why I’m leaving.” The words were out before I could second-guess them, heavy with the sorrow I could no longer bear.

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