I left before the sun fully climbed into the sky.
Rome didn't stop me.
He didn't try to follow, didn't block the door, didn't say my name again like it might tether me to him. He simply stepped aside, giving me space—something he had never been very good at before.
I booked a Grab to get home. Rome insisted on driving me himself, but I didn't let him. I didn't want to be in the same space with him anymore.
The streets blurred past the window, familiar yet distant, like I was watching my life through glass. My head still throbbed faintly, but it was nothing compared to the ache pressing against my chest.
By the time we neared the neighborhood, my hands were shaking.
Fear crept in quietly. What if they could tell something was wrong? What if I looked different?
I took a deep breath before opening the door.
Small laughter.
The kind that immediately loosens something tight inside your ribs.
"Mom!"
Egypt was the first to see me.
