MIRANDA
When my informant told me that Elias had spent hours of his night drinking at a bar and was heading somewhere that wasn't home, I couldn't get myself to rest.
I had mentally concluded already that he was heading to that woman's house, but I had no solid proof of it. I thought maybe my heart had assumed it was her simply because I hated her so much — and if there was any word stronger than hatred to describe what I felt for her, that was exactly how I felt. But when my informant's words confirmed my assumption, I knew it wasn't just hatred. It was the fact that I was completely right.
The moment he dropped the address, I didn't hesitate. I got myself moving.
Seeing them standing that close to each other, with tears stained on her cheeks, I knew whatever was going on between them
