Dawn came without mercy.
Nora hadn’t slept. She hadn’t even closed her eyes long enough to pretend. The city outside was beginning to hum with life—car horns, distant chatter, footsteps in the hallway—while her apartment felt frozen in the night before.
She dragged herself into the kitchen, craving coffee but too jittery to even make it. Her hands trembled against the counter, nails tapping wood in a frantic rhythm.
Her phone still refused to light up. No calls. No messages. Not from tovia. Not from Jason.
A knot pulled tighter in her chest. Tovia would have called by now—at least sent a “You okay?” or a sarcastic text about how Nora was probably “overthinking herself into a coma.” But the silence stretched too long.
Maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she’s asleep.
The excuses rang hollow
