The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked away, the sound fading with each step until all that remained was the soft murmur of the wind and the weight pressing on his chest.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
If he did, he knew he'd see her standing there again — sunlight catching in her hair, soil on her hands, eyes filled with that same quiet light that had once made him believe in peace.
He tightened his grip on the paper bag holding the seedlings. They were small things — just a few ornamental plants she'd chosen for him without realizing who he was. Her fingers had brushed his when she handed them over, and that single, fleeting touch still burned like a memory he'd never escaped.
God, he thought, jaw clenching. What are you doing to me, Sofia?
He reached the truck and placed the bag carefully on the passenger seat before resting both hands on the steering wheel. His knuckles whitened as he drew in a deep breath, trying to steady the riot in his chest.
