Abbie had just convinced herself she could finally relax. The afternoon sun spilled through the blinds, Alma was scrolling on her phone across the couch, and for once, everything felt blissfully ordinary.
Then came the knock.
It wasn’t a neighbor’s casual tap or a delivery driver’s quick rattle. It was firm. Intentional.
Alma looked up. “You expecting someone?”
Abbie’s pulse spiked. “No.”
Another knock. Louder this time.
She hesitated, half praying it was Francis or a package, or literally anyone else. But when she peeked through the peephole, her breath caught.
Keith.
In a gray coat. Hands in pockets. Waiting like he had all the time in the world.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Alma raised an eyebrow. “Oh no who?”
“Nobody,” Abbie said quickly, stepping away from the door like it might
