Zoe's POV
The rest of the week dragged on slowly.
Each day felt like a foggy eternity; not the kind of slowness that comes with the anticipation of something thrilling on its way, but rather a haunting suspension where everything felt… stuck. I was between healing and agony, between the sweet sting of honesty and the bitter entanglement of deceit. I found myself suspended between the person I used to be and the facade I wore like a second skin.
Mornings greeted me with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the mug cradled between my palms as I sat by the window, watching life bustle past without me—each soul moving with purpose. At the same time, I seemed to exist in a parallel universe.
The evenings were even more challenging, The silence felt oppressive, stretching out unbearably long, occasionally shattered by the cacophony of my racing thoughts—an inner monologue I desperately tried to fend off.
