Xander
Nala's story hit me like a freight train, leaving me utterly shocked and disoriented.
I staggered backward, the weight of her words knocking the wind out of me, making my head spin as if the entire world had suddenly tilted on its axis.
Somehow, I found my way back to the couch, sinking into it as if it were the only thing keeping me grounded.
My mind was racing, trying desperately to piece together what I had just learned, but it felt impossible.
Willow Bridge—a name I had long buried in the deepest recesses of my mind—resurfaced, bringing with it memories I had hoped to forget, memories I wished I could erase completely.
I bowed my head, disbelief coursing through me, and ran my fingers through my hair in frustration and anguish.
How could this be happening? The past,
