ISLA'S POV
Dare had agreed to the rest of the week off without argument, which somehow unsettled me more than if he'd fought me on it. A single line in a work email — Take whatever time you need. Don't rush back. — no explanation, no attempt to check in beyond that, like he'd decided the safest thing he could do for both of us was simply disappear from my life until I resurfaced on my own terms.
I was curled up on my bed Saturday afternoon, half-watching something on my laptop without actually absorbing any of it, when my phone buzzed with a message from the building's front desk. Package and letter for you, Miss Harlow. Courier just dropped it off.
I went down to collect it, curiosity briefly overtaking the low, persistent exhaustion I'd been carrying all week. The package was heavier
