The following morning, I woke with a start, my heart already racing, as if my body knew before my mind could catch up. Sleep had been broken, shallow, fractured by flashes of Marco’s smirk and Jonathan’s fading I love you whispering in my ear like a ghost.
I dragged myself out of bed, forced myself through the motions of showering and dressing, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman staring back. Hollow cheeks. Bruised circles beneath my eyes. My lips trembled with words I couldn’t say aloud. I looked less like a wife and more like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.
The phone buzzed just as I sat down with untouched coffee. My hands shook when I picked it up. A single line stared back at me:
Be at the Westin Hotel. Noon. Room 1402. Don’t be late. Bring
