The Leaving
That night, Olivia packed.
Her clothes, a few photo frames, the little ceramic mug she’d bought from the thrift shop — all went into a small duffel. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay.
Ethan stood in the doorway, guilt etched across his face. “Liv, don’t go. Please.”
She turned to him. “I can’t live where I’m not wanted.”
He stepped closer. “Then we’ll both go.”
Olivia froze. “Ethan—”
He took her hand. “I’m serious. Mom’s house isn’t home anymore. You are.”
The world seemed to shift on its axis in that moment — a soft breaking of chains, an old door creaking open.
They left before dawn.
