He didn’t ask how I was. He didn’t pretend to care. His tone sounded like someone dealing with a nuisance, not speaking about his own wife.
In the background, I heard Sylvia—his mother—laugh, sharp and dismissive.
“And don’t bring her back,” she added. “She’s already caused enough trouble, dragging her drama into a house she doesn’t deserve.”
The call ended abruptly. That hollow click turned the entire morning cold and heavy.
I grabbed my coat, keys, and bag. The coffee I had just made sat untouched. Some mornings, you realize hunger can wait.
Rain hammered against the windshield as I drove toward the terminal, the city still half-asleep, hiding things people preferred not to see in daylight.
I found Chloe curled up on a metal bench under a flickering light.
For a moment, she was so still my heart stopped.
Then she lifted her face.
