As the bus pulled away, Dominic turned back toward the house. The woman followed him in first—and the second her foot crossed the threshold, my phone started ringing.
The sound sliced straight through me.
I didn’t think. I just ran.
I sprinted to my bedroom and caught the call just before it died in my hand.
“Hello?” I answered, already breathless.
I regretted it immediately.
It was the front desk receptionist—the one from the appointment I had missed yesterday. Her voice was polite, rehearsed, the kind that carries disappointment without ever saying it out loud. She spoke for a long time, explaining policies, consequences, and professional courtesy, and when she finally paused, she offered me an alternative.
A makeup appointment.
Two weeks from today.
I agreed before fear could t
