Naomi did not remember how she got home.She remembered stepping out of Damon’s office, the hallway stretching too long in front of her, the sound of her heels against the floor echoing too loudly in her ears. She remembered Patrick’s startled face when he saw her leave without Damon, the way he straightened immediately and said her name, concern already forming. She remembered waving him off without looking back. After that, everything blurred into a series of moments that did not feel real enough to belong to her.Now she sat on the edge of her bed, her back straight, her hands resting limply on her lap as though they no longer belonged to her body.The bedroom was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. The curtains were drawn, shutting out the afternoon light, leaving the room dark. The familiar scent of the space; Damon’s cologne, her perfume, the faint smell of clean linen, should have grounded her. PppppppppInstead, it made her chest tighten.Uncle Jack.The words repeated in her
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