Therapy started slowly, each session peeling back the thick layers of denial he’d built to survive his heartbreak. He forced himself to confront all the memories he’d buried deep down, facing the quiet unhappiness he’d mistaken for temporary stress and distance.
He gathered up all Clara’s leftover things—the toothbrush, the old t-shirts, the half-used shampoo bottle. He finally realized they were just meaningless items she hadn’t cared enough to take with her. There were no hidden clues, no secret messages in the leftover belongings.
