"June 9, 2018. Lost contact completely. She deleted all her social media accounts. Her phone number is disconnected. Vanished without a trace. Lena, you're cruel."

The last page of the journal.

"June 30, 2018. Met a girl today. Her smile looks just like yours. Her name is Willow Sullivan, and her birthday is even the same day as yours. If that isn't fate, what is?"

Nothing after that.

Curtis stared at me for a long time.

Then he smiled, indulgent, as though I were a child throwing a tantrum.

"Come on, stop this. I know I shouldn't have left you on the side of the road today."

"But Lena was hurt. I had to take her to the hospital."

"I've already sent the car to the shop. It'll be good as new, I promise. Can you stop being upset now?"

A car could be fixed.

But a shattered heart—how do you fix that?

Tears spilled before I could stop them.

He didn't soften the way he used to. No tenderness, no concern. He paced in front of me, visibly irritated.

"Willow, can you stop being so unreasonable for once?"

"You can check my phone. You can look through my bank statements. What more do you want from me?"

"Lena has no parents. She's completely alone in this world. I'm not asking you to feel what she feels, but can't you show a shred of compassion?"

My chest locked up. I opened my mouth.

I wanted to tell him I was alone in this world now too.

I wanted to tell him I was the one who was hurt.

But in the end, all I wanted was to run.

The moment my feet hit the floor, a searing pain shot through me and I crumpled to the ground.

Curtis sighed, bent down, and carried me back to the bed.

I turned away, refusing to look at him. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face him.

"Willow, we promised each other we'd never go to bed angry. What exactly are you so upset about?"

When I still didn't answer, he leaned down and pressed his mouth hard against mine.

Back when things were good between us, he used to say there was nothing a night together couldn't fix.

My mother had been buried today. And he wanted—

Nausea surged through me. I shoved him off and slapped him across the face.

"Get out!"

Curtis ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His patience finally snapped.

"Fine. Just don't come crawling back to me on your knees!"

That was one of only two fights we had in six years.

The first was during our second year together, when I insisted he take me along to visit his family's graves on Memorial Day.