ARIANA

I sat at the dining table, absentmindedly stirring my spoon through the bowl of oatmeal in front of me. The sounds of clinking utensils and quiet chatter filled the room, but my mind was elsewhere. Every few minutes, my eyes would dart toward the door, scanning the hallway for any sign of Grayson. But he never appeared.

Why was I waiting for him? The question kept gnawing at me, yet I had no answer. Maybe it was because of what he’d said earlier. Maybe I just needed to see him to understand if he really meant it—if he was truly ready to let me go.

I chewed on my...