The second came later that night, in the house Karl and I had shared.
Everything looked like he might walk through the door at any moment, and that made it unbearable.
I lay down, closed my eyes, and saw him collapsing again.
And again.
And again.
Before dawn, I got up, packed a backpack, and left.
I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I couldn’t stay in that house another hour. I went to the station and bought a bus ticket to somewhere I had never been, because distance felt like the only thing I could still control.
When the bus pulled away, I leaned my head against the window and watched the city blur into the gray morning. For the first time all week, I could breathe without feeling like I was swallowing glass.
At the next stop, the doors opened. People boarded.
One of them slid into the empty seat beside me, and a familiar scent hit me so strongly it made my stomach twist.
Karl’s cologne.
I turned my head.
It was Karl.
part2
Not someone who resembled him. Not grief playing tricks on me. Karl. Alive, pale, tired—but undeniably real.
Before I could scream, he leaned close and said, “Don’t scream. You need to know the whole truth.”
