Mara
The envelope is taped to my front door.
No stamp.
No postage.
Just my name written in Evan’s handwriting.
My stomach drops before I even open it.
Lily is inside finishing her homework.
I slide the paper out slowly.
It’s a printed screenshot.
A photo of Cole’s bike parked in my driveway.
Time stamp from last night..
My hands go cold.
He knows.
He knows Cole stayed.
I crumple the paper instinctively, then smooth it back out because this is evidence.
Because this is intimidation.
Because this is not normal.
My phone buzzes before I can think.
Evan.
I let it ring.
It rings again.
I answer.
“What?”
“You get my note.”
“You’re unhinged.”
“I’m observant.”
“You took pictures of my house.”
“Our house,” he corrects automatically.
“It stopped being ours when you left.”
