I paced around my room for most of the day.
Back and forth.
The silence of the house only made the storm inside my head louder. My thoughts refused to settle, each one worse than the last.
To calm my nerves, I took a shower.
Then another.
And another.
By the fourth shower, my skin felt raw, but my mind was still racing.
Nothing helped.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that photograph again—Aaron standing beside Elena, both of them looking far too comfortable with each other.
My sister.
With my fiancé.
It didn't make sense.
I tried distracting myself with chores around the house. I cleaned the kitchen. Folded laundry that didn't need folding. Rearranged drawers that were already organized.
But the questions kept clawing their way back.
Eventually, a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.
I rushed to the bathroom just in time, gripping the sink as I threw up.
For a moment I stayed there, breathing heavily, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror.
