The city lights of Phnom Penh stretched out below
Debbie as she sat alone on the balcony of her small
apartment. The night was quiet, save for the distant
hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog.
This was her space for thinking, for untangling the
storm in her heart.
Pasco. Felix. The ghosts of the life she wanted and
the life she feared. She traced the rim of her coffee
cup, her reflection staring back at her from the dark
liquid inside. "Who am I, without anyone else?" she
whispered, the question both foreign and familiar.
For weeks, she had been lost in a loop of longing and regret, trying to make sense of where she had gone wrong. But now, an ache in her chest reminded her that maybe she had been asking the wrong question.
Maybe it wasn't about where she went wrong but
where she wanted to go from here.