The rest of the week went… fine. On the surface, at least.
Val and I fell back into our rhythm—banter that came too easy, laughter spilling between us at the smallest things. She always seemed so happy, glowing even, like the thought of leaving for her masters was nothing more than another exciting chapter in her endless list of adventures.
Maybe she was too happy.
It was almost disarming, how carefree she looked when the sun was up.
But me? Every night, it was the same. I'd lie in bed, watching her chest rise and fall beside me, and the ache would return. It wrapped itself around me like a heavy blanket, pressing down until sleep finally dragged me under. The ache of knowing she'd be gone soon. The ache of pretending I was fine with it.
