#Joel’s POV#Two weeks without her feels like two months. Maybe two years. Every morning starts with me checking my phone before I even get out of bed, sending her a message just to ask how she’s doing, if she’s eaten, what time her appointment is. Every night ends with me doing the same, even if she doesn’t answer right away. I don’t care. I want her to know I’m here.Right now, I’m in the front garden, with my sleeves rolled up and dirt under my nails, working on the garden bed I’ve been building for her. Not some flimsy, throw-some-flowers-in kind of bed, but something solid and wide enough for a row of roses, sturdy enough to last years. I’ve been out here every day since she left, measuring, digging, hammering, sanding. And I still keep wondering if she’ll like it.“Pass me that trowel,” I say to Marcos, one of the guards. He hands it over, his face shaded under his cap.“You think she’ll like this, right?” I ask, not really looking at him because I don’t want to see pity. Marco
Last Updated : 2025-11-07 Read more