Abandoned By My Hero, Reborn Stronger

Mckin

ead throbbed, and a persistent shiver ran through my body. I barely made it to a hot shower, letting the steaming water wash away the cold and the li

hip keeping them out late, often overnight. The silence used to feel lonely, a gaping void. Now, it felt like a reprieve, a space to breathe. I no longe

rline. Your flight to Chicago, flight AA178, is schedul

or of anticipation, mixed with a health

I was leaving behind. A small circle was drawn around today's d

erhaps. My absence, the space I would create, would be his. He wouldn't have to pretend anymore. He wo

deciding what to keep, what to discard. Clothes, books, trinkets. Anything that didn't serve the new Kianna,

ked in, his face tired but his eyes scanning the room. He sto

an usual. "Are you finally getting rid of that ol

ganized child he constantly had to clean up after. "Just clearing out some things,"

my demeanor, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. But then he shrugged it off, his attention shifting. "Gwyneth and I are moving into our

itter thought. He was building his future, and I was not a part of it. The silence would be even louder then, in t

For another one of his endless business trips, or perhaps, for another romantic getaway with Gwy

dan," I called out, my voice surprisingly stead

rned. A flicker of something unreadable i

hand-knitted scarf, a carefully curated playlist, a painted portrait. Each one a silen

be we could celebrate? Before I leave for Chicago." The lie tasted like

sure, Kianna. Gwyneth has some plans. I'll let you know."

up his suitcase, his silhouette framed in the doorway, and walked out without anot

ngulf me. Instinctively, my hand reached for the drawer, the one that used to hold my diary, my letters, my c

side, page after page, were my drawings of him. Jordan, in various stages of his life. Jordan as a boy, his arm around me. Jordan as a teenager, laugh

re the last vestiges of a love that had become a

d in my mind. Every year, I had drawn him. This year, I would draw him, and her. A f

hed carefully, meticulously, pouring all my remaining emotions into the lines. His strong profile, her elegant features, their intertwined hands. It took

. Jordan. He was back. And he wasn't alone. I heard a slurred laugh, a st

hallway, Gwyneth struggling to support him. He was drunk.

er patience clearly wearing thin. "Y

controlled. To see him like this, so vulnerable, so utterl

hing forward. I took his arm, his weight almost pullin

waist, pulling me closer. A jolt, electric and unwelcome, shot through me. My br

reath hot against my ear. My body stiffened, a wave of unease washing over me.

ng my face. "Gwyneth," he slurred, his voice surprisingly tender. "You're finally here. I