#Chapter 81: Home

Abby The scent of mahogany and bergamot fills the air as I step into the room that was once mine—our room, really. I feel so drawn to the familiarity of it all; the embroidered curtains, the chestnut armoire that I remember picking out myself, and the plush rug that used to cushion my bare feet in the mornings. Every little detail is still the same, just as I remember it. It’s uncanny, really. My fingers trace the intricate patterns on the upholstery of the armchair near the window. It’s a bit surreal, being back in this space. I mean, this was my sanctuary once. Our sanctuary. But now, it’s filled with… bittersweet memories. Maybe more bitter than sweet. I move to the dresser next. That’s when I see it: a photo of us, still sitting exactly where it used to be on top of the dresser—Karl and I laughing at something, looking so young, so naive. My eyes widen slightly as I gently pick it up. Did he have this picture up all this time? As I hold the picture, someth