phin

hes. Everything else-every book, every trinket, every piece of clothing Dante had ever bought me-I sorted into boxes. I called a discreet com

arly. He found me in my room, which was already stripped bare, look

bare walls, a flicker of something unreada

this?"

my voice even. "I'm donatin

press it. He seemed distracted, a

he said. It wasn't an invitati

"I'll be there. To

meant a goodbye to my childhood, to my place as h

aid before turning and le

iling, a rare and precious sight. Dante sleeping in his study chair. Dante with

an from the engagement photo. Dante standing beside Isabella, a crown on his head and a str

te a simple inscription: M

ke closing

is birthday, the night before

mbling through the doorway he hadn't entered in years. His eyes were

e slurred, re

cold. He thou

arms, his grip desperate. He buried h

thick with anguish. "Why don't

traced my cheekbones, a ghost of a forgotten tendernes

e kiss

te, a kiss born of self-loathing and regret. It tasted of expensiv

g mine. It was a violation. An act of desecration on the altar of my dead love. And

abe