2 AM. Desk lamp. The black notebook open to a fresh page and the apartment so quiet I could hear my own pulse.
Sienna was asleep three feet away – face buried in her pillow, her phone still clutched in her hand with Cole's last text glowing on the screen. She'd fallen asleep smiling. I envied that. The simplicity of falling for someone who wasn't surrounded by landmines. Someone whose biggest complication was labelled snack containers and an inability to admit he was in love.
I picked up the pen. Started writing.
Not the shorthand version I'd been keeping in my head – the full timeline. Every date. Every incident. Every Caleb-adjacent crisis from the very beginning, laid out in chronological order with the precision of someone who'd spent months tracking a pattern she couldn't prove and
