045. i think i'm... complicated

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CHAPTER FORTY FIVE[ real life ]❛ i think i'm

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CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
[ real life ]
❛ i think i'm... complicated ❜

 complicated ❜

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Marnie heard him before she saw him, his voice low, polite, talking to Max in the kitchen

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Marnie heard him before she saw him, his voice low, polite, talking to Max in the kitchen.

A knock sounded at her door, precise and intentional. The kind that didn't ask if someone was inside, it assumed it.

Unlike Max, he waited.

Marnie didn't move.

She was curled up in the same place she'd claimed as hers over the past few days, the mattress slightly flattened beneath her. The hoodie still hung off her frame, sleeves bunched awkwardly at her wrists now from where she'd twisted them too many times between her fingers.

The room had slipped further into neglect.

Another glass of water sat untouched on her bedside table, a faint film collecting across the surface. The fairy lights still glowed, but dimmer now, one or two bulbs flickering inconsistently like they were considering giving up entirely. The air felt stale, like it hadn't properly moved in days.

Her suitcase was still by the door. Still unpacked. One of her tops – the one she'd worn to dinner with his family – lay draped over the edge, creased and forgotten, like it belonged to a different version of her.

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