Melissa's POV
One week earlier
"I need to get to work," I said to Christi.
Our new life was going great. We each had large, luxurious bedrooms. The kitchen was our favorite place though. It was huge. It had dark, cherry wood cabinets. Granite countertops, a large butcher block, stainless steal appliances, lots of room, pristine glasses and white dishes.
And the living room. Don't even get me started. The whole house was dark wood floors. The living room had a large leather sectional, with white pillows and a plush cream throw. There was a large, white built in shelving unit to balance the colors. It had a huge flat screen. With space for our favorite movies, books, knickknacks, and vases, we didn't have any problem with being cramped.
Down the long hallway, complete with luxurious sconces, was our bedrooms, bathrooms, guest room, and bonus room. Rather large for an apartment, but we had the top floor penthouse suite. And all of this in Wisconsin you might wonder. Well, I guess we picked the right place.
My bedroom was a soft lavender, with a king size four poster bed. The duvet was white and fluffy, with light purple accent pillows and a throw. The furniture was all white. I had a simple white vanity, a dressers, two nightstands, a bookshelf, and a lounge chair.
Christi's room was basically the same, with dark furniture, and dark purple theme. Our bathrooms were identical. They each had a long spacious countertop with a sink, a separate toilet area, a large standup tile shower, and an enormous spa tub with 10 different spouts for different soaps and temperatures.
I worked at a local law firm, I had my law degree from forever ago. Christi got a job working for a boutique. And not just any boutique, an extremely high end boutique. To put it this way: our salaries aren't much different.
I miss Maddie. I miss the way she laughs. The way she would come into my room when she had a bad day at school. I miss the rainy days where she would beg me to make cookies with her. I miss having to buy her hundreds of dresses, because she always insisted on looking good.
Part of me inside is withering up. A sliver of my heart is dying. And I will never be able to get it back.