Page 137 of My Only

“I need to go,” I murmured, mostly to myself.

I pushed up from my desk, shoving my laptop into my bag and tucking my sketchbook under my arm.

“Harper.” My voice was thick, heavy. I sniffed back the heat in my nose, blinking fast against the sting in my eyes.

I don’t even know why I want to cry.

“I can’t trust you here with my things, and I need to lock my office door when I go. So…” I gestured at the door. “Please, leave.”

She parted her lips like she wanted to say something.

But instead, she nodded.

She walked to the door, then paused—turned slightly.

I turned and gave her my back.

Because what the fuck just happened here?

The entire drive home, I was in shambles.

I played back every bullshit late night.

Every moment of self-doubt.

Every second of imposter syndrome creeping in because of delays I never should’ve had in the first place.

Time. Energy. Stress. All of it… wasted.

And I couldn’t lie to myself. I knew why this happened.

I never stopped her.

I ignored the signs, believing it was harmless. That she was harmless.

But my father was right.

I’d been lying to myself.

When I pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car, I let out a breath.

But it didn’t help.

I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Darkness.

All the lights were off.

Except one.

The guest room.

I stared at the faint glow spilling into the hallway, my father’s words echoing in my mind.

“Never let her sleep in another bed.”

But I didn’t go to her.

I couldn’t.

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