Because while I was drowning in fear, Leo seemed strangely unmoved.
And sadness has a cruel way of turning disappointment into resentment.
That night I barely slept.
By morning, my pain had hardened and turned into anger.
I convinced myself that Leo didn’t understand responsibility. That he expected me to continue carrying everything on my own, while he was completely oblivious to reality.
And the worst thing was that I started to feel betrayed by him too.
By noon, I had made a decision.
If Leo didn’t want to help, then maybe it was time for him to leave.
Just for the sake of explanation.
My hands were shaking as they carried empty boxes into his room.
Every movement was painful.
I hated myself for doing it, but at the same time I felt strangely justified.
I folded the clothes mechanically.
Packaged books.
Cleaned shelves.
Then I noticed the carry-on bag tucked under his bed.
Black canvas. Zipper closure. A small paper tag attached to the handle.
My name carefully written above.
Clara.
Confused, I slowly pulled it out.
Inside was a bank savings book.
I opened it.
And immediately he fell silent.
Small deposits fill page after page.
