cuffed-up piggy bank, dreaming of a future with Chloe and a promise ring tha
, walked up, clueless as ever, showing off an expensive watch Chloe had help
ncy rooftop bar. Zooming in, I saw it-my piggy bank, next to a bottle of champagne, being used as an ashtray. The memory hit me: overhearing Chloe
prop in her drama with Liam. The cheap daisies I held for her surp
k, howling void. The pain solidified into
, it sounded less like a punishment and more like a rescue. I w