*Runze's POV*
The morning feels different.
Maybe because, for the first time in weeks, I know this room isn't where I'll fall asleep tonight.
The room looks exactly the same as it always has. The same white walls, the same faint antiseptic scent lingering in everything. And yet it already feels like somewhere I used to be rather than somewhere I am.
Mrs. Wen finished packing what little remained yesterday. There had never been much to pack anyway. The hospital gowns weren't mine, most of what filled the small bag were Bael's daily necessities, the extra shirts and personal items brought over during the long days he spent practically living here by my side.
Only two things remain on the bedside cabinet.
The black sketchbook. And the leather case holding my drafting pencils.
I reach for the sketchbook first, turning it over once in my hands before setting it back down. Its pages are no longer empty.
