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"Luna! It's Mom!" She screams, pounding on the door as if she could knock it down with her bare hands. She couldn't, but then again, maybe she could.
I get up from the couch, my body feeling stiff, numb, not my own as I walk to the door and unlock the hinge. Before I can set my hand on the handle, it's shoved open, and there she is, pulling me into her warmth. A gathering of people barrels into the door, sweeping me into their arms and checking me head to toe.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.
I'm so not fine.
I haven't cried since that little shop. Since the moment I couldn't feel him anymore, my tears dried up. It's like no tears exist in my body anymore. Not one.
I can't tell who's around me, but I can tell either way. I can smell my parents’ familiar scents. I can sense Roman's parents, huddling around me, crying in grief.
So much grief.
I can feel the grief in the tips of my fingers, all the way to my toes. The sound of constantly being underwater. The sensation of constantly living in slow motion. It's like I'm living out of my body, watching myself go through the motions. Not able to stop or dictate anything. I just watch myself, hovering over my defeated form. I stare at myself withering away.
They watch the news. They talk. They attempt to get me to eat. So many things happen, but all I do is stare at the screen. Wishing this was all a dream.
But knowing it's not.
It's not until my mom bends down, forcing my gaze to hers. She stares at me, tears in her eyes. "Honey, I think it's time you come home."
Home.
Where is home?
Isn't home wherever Roman Hall is?
Maybe home is nowhere at all.
I nod my head anyway. "Let's go home."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
LUNA
My heart sits in my throat as I stare at the empty casket in front of me. Everyone cries. Everyone wears black. Everyone weeps and moans and gives me their condolences.
Everyone issorry for my loss.
I don't look away from the oak-colored casket, with flowers upon flowers loaded on the center.
It's empty, does anyone know that?
"How are you doing?" My mother comes up behind me, this being the first I've ever seen her wear black in her entire life. She wraps her arms around my waist, and oddly, all I want to do is curl away from her embrace.
I don't want touch. I don't want anything if it doesn't have to do with Roman.
I shrug, feeling empty.
"If you need a break, you just let me know and we'll get out of here for a bit."
I nod, blinking at the casket.
People give me space, a wide berth around the wooden box. As if we're in our own little bubble. No one dares come within this space, I guess except for my mom.
September has turned into November. Our small apartment has been packed up in New York, and I'm once again living in my childhood bedroom at my parents’ house.
