Chapter 356

An abortion?! Seriously? Tanya was still stirring up drama. But whatever. If she wanted to be dramatic, let her. I had enough problems. I wasn't going to play hero.

"Let her be," I said, shrugging.

"Whoa, not playing the saint today?" Lena teased, reminding me of my past meddling.

I smirked. "The saint went rogue."

She laughed. "I love it."

After she hung up, I went to the demolition office for the final paperwork. They gave me a form, stating I had three days to vacate.

I thought I'd been ready since seeing the demolition notice. I'd even started packing. But the deadline hit me hard—my apartment was actually being demolished.

Back at the complex, I stared at the building. The old ladies were gone, probably already moved.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice Hayden until I started heading inside.

"Hungry?" he asked, foregoing pleasantries.

I shook my head. I was too exhausted to talk.

"Tired?" Hayden always understood me.

I murmured, "Mm."

Hayden seemed about to speak, but I was already halfway up the stairs. He followed quietly, taking the bag from my hand. He knew better than to force conversation. We climbed in silence.

At the top, I reached for the bag. He hesitated, looking at me expectantly. He knew what I meant, but wanted me to say it.

I sighed, lowering my hand. "I deregistered my parents today. It was exhausting. I need space tonight."

Hayden's eyes darkened. "At least eat something first."

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, reaching for the bag.

After a pause, he gave it to me.

I slipped into the apartment, leaning against the door. I didn't bother turning on the lights. The fading sunset illuminated the familiar furniture.

Three months ago, upon returning, I'd stood in this same spot, taking it all in. Nothing had changed. Even after three months, I'd kept everything as it was. Hayden hadn't touched a thing; he understood.

Looking around, it felt like my parents were still here. I could picture it vividly: my dad on the couch with his newspaper, glancing up to say, "Hey, come here! You've gotta see this article." And my mom, in the kitchen, calling, "Kiki, wash your hands and have some fruit! Dinner's almost ready."

Caught in the memory, I sat on the couch where Dad used to sit. I found an old newspaper, still folded to the article he'd shown me. I read it aloud, just as I had then, ending with, "This is what you call good writing? I could be a famous author one day."

Then, clearly, I heard my dad's voice: "That's right, my daughter could be a famous author."

I froze, turning to the empty space beside me. That wasn't what he'd said. He'd tapped my head, laughing, "Stay humble if you wanna improve."

But I had heard him. Something different.

I scanned the room. No one was there. Just me. But I knew I'd heard it.

"Dad? Mom?" I whispered, hurrying to the kitchen. It was empty.

I returned to the couch, my heart racing, but the room was still. No one. Just me.