“Promise me you’ll lay low and allow me to sort this out.”
Nathan’s words still echoed in Leah’s mind long after he was gone. He had said them while holding her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers with the kind of desperation that came from fear. She had promised, nodding quietly even though a small voice inside her whispered that promises were fragile things.
Now, she sat alone in the living room, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, her thoughts restless. The curtains were half drawn, letting in streaks of soft afternoon light. Outside, the city hummed faintly, unaware of the battle unfolding in her heart.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She reached for it without thinking, expecting it to be Nathan checking in. Instead, the name on the screen made her chest tighten.
Marc
