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Couples laughing on street corners. Families shopping for New Year’s parties. Lights everywhere, twinkling and cheerful and mocking.
Everyone moving toward the New Year together, hand in hand, while I fell apart.
I couldn’t watch everyone else’s happiness while mine crumbled.
So I drove to the one place that had ever felt truly safe: The small cabin in the woods my mom left me when she died.
The drive took four hours. Snow covered the trees like thick white blankets, beautiful in that way that hurts to look at.
My phone lost signal about 30 miles back.
Good. I didn’t want to be found.
When I finally turned onto the dirt path leading to the cabin, my heart stopped.
The lights were on.
That cabin had been empty for years.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
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