my old rooms, the ones fil

he'd given, photographs of u

acken. It wasn't just about Ethan; it was about purging the ghost o

sincere poetry, the expens

m Marc years ago, something I'd kept hidden away, s

atched me, her expression a

Ms. Montoya,"

He thinks this is all some

e laced with uncharacteristic anger. "He t

"promised" to him, things my grandfather had supposedly of

lt with that swif

ts my things? My heritage?" I'd seethed to Ma

rently flown into a defensive rage, denying everything, then tryin

him," I said to Maria, shaking my head at the sheer audacity

om my first engagement party. His smile was p

me on the hearth,

d the photo i

e," I w

arity luncheon. He looked disheveled, his u

riously. That Vance fellow

s no 'us

're angry. I messed up. But

echoes of a past I was

give you, Ethan. Th

m standing there, his fac

for Ethan. But for the years I'd wasted, the trust I'd misplaced. I cried

h. Just held my hand, his presence a silen