The front gate creaked shut behind Monica’s car, and the sound echoed through the quiet compound, I stood there with my overnight bag hanging from my shoulder, staring at the old house Monica had refused to leave immediately.She stood beside her car with her arms folded, watching me“Are you absolutely sure about this?” she asked.I adjusted the strap of my bag and looked up at the building.The cream paint was more faded than I remembered. Some vines had begun creeping around the fence, and the flowers my father used to care for were now growing wildly on their own.Still, it looked like home.“Yes,” I said quietly. “I’m sure.”“You can come with me, you know. If you walk into that house and decide you’re not ready, my door is open.”I smiled at her.“I know.”She stepped closer and pulled me into a hug, I held onto her tightly.It felt comforting to know that someone was offering me another choice.“I’ll bring you supplies later,” she said as she pulled away. “Food, groceries, an
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