(Sapphire's POV)
Three weeks.
It was already three weeks since we buried my best friend.
I had slowly started believing that he was indeed gone, but it didn't make it easier for me to breathe.
Now all I did was stay awake or workout or sleep. People still went to work, did their business and whatnot.
Life still went on as if he had not died.
I tightened my grip around the metal bar and pushed harder, my muscles screaming in protest as I forced myself through another rep.
This pain was a need. Because it was easier to handle physical pain than the one sitting quietly in my chest.
I straightened slowly and reached for my towel, wiping my face. For these three weeks I had barely seen Damian and I low-key preferred it this way.
We weren't on bad terms, but the space was necessary as it allowed me grief in my own way.
