One evening, unable to sleep, she found herself opening the drawer again. His hoodie still smelled faintly of him, even after all this time. She clutched it to her chest, closing her eyes and letting herself feel the ache she had tried so hard to suppress.
She hated herself for it, for still clinging to the fragments of him. But letting go felt like erasing a part of herself, a part of her that had once been so full of love and hope.