The room suddenly felt too small.
Twenty-one years.
Twenty-one years with Nicole.
Vacations. Holidays. Late-night talks. Watching our daughter Emma grow up. Building a life together brick by brick.
And now my brain was ripping through every memory like it had hidden teeth.
The business trips Nicole suddenly wanted to join.
The password she changed six months ago.
The way she’d started taking walks alone after dinner.
The expensive perfume she claimed was “just because.”
God.
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