You don’t have her number?

The engine purred beneath me, a low, steady hum that matched the rhythm of my thoughts.

The cityscape unfolded around me as I navigated the familiar streets, the sunlight glinting off the sleek hood of my car.

People hurried along the sidewalks, their faces blurred by the speed of my passing. For the first time in weeks, I was alone just me, the road, and the quiet hum of the engine.

I leaned back in my seat, my hands light on the wheel, and let the city guide me. But as the minutes passed, a strange heaviness settled in my chest.

Nostalgia crept in, uninvited and unwelcome, bringing with it memories of the villa. The sprawling house on the outskirts of the city where my family lived or rather, where my parents tolerated me between photoshoots and runway shows. 

I sighed, pressing my foot a little harder on the gas. The villa was beautiful, sure, but it had never felt like home.