Norah’s heart skipped a beat as she hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she nodded
and, clutching a pineapple bun, made her way upstairs.
Reaching the top, she called out before entering, “Mr. Flemmings?” but no reply came from within.
The living room was empty, so Norah headed towards his bedroom. The door was ajar, and despite her
knocking, there was still no response.
She gently pushed the door open, and it swung wide to reveal an empty room.
On the bed lay a few pieces of clothing and a backpack, ready for travel. Norah paused, confusion etching her
features. Was he leaving?
She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the luggage strewn across the bed, a sudden panic gripping her.

Where was he going?
Would he come back?

which she had bought for him. He had taken it reluctantly, telling her not to buy him anything ever again, yet he had worn it many times. Clutching the shirt, Norah was suddenly overwhelmed by the memories of what he had said that night at

Her cries grew louder, as if she needed to release all the pent-up frustration and grief in one go.
Xavier, coming out of the bathroom, heard the crying outside. After splashing water on his face, he walked out,
stopping short at the sight of Norah weeping on his bed. His expression shifted, and he leaned against the
nearby wall.
With his back against the wall, he couldn’t help but wonder, why was he hiding from her?
And why was she crying in his room?
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