The apartment was quiet again after Andrew’s departure—too quiet. The air felt heavier now, thick with unresolved words and the weight of unspoken questions. Amelia stood in the middle of the room, staring at the closed door, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions.
Behind her, Brad was still there—still processing everything he’d just walked into.
He placed the coffee and folder gently on the side table, the way someone might approach a ticking bomb. Then he looked at her.
“Amelia?” he said softly.
She didn’t turn to face him. “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”
There was a long pause before he said, “I think I need an explanation.”
She finally turned, her face pale, but her eyes—though glassy—held a quiet strength. “Where do I even begin?”
Brad walked over and
