The days kept moving once the police said the man was in custody, as if a headline could rewire her nerves.
Nothing happened.
That was the strangest part.
Caroline still woke too early. She still checked the locks twice. But no one followed her. No strange car lingered at the curb. No anonymous message arrived to remind her she was never truly safe.
By the fifth day, something under her ribs loosened a fraction. Not gone. Not forgiven. Just unknotted enough that she could breathe without counting.
Work gave her somewhere to aim the leftover panic.
She arrived before most of the floor lights were on, answered emails with clipped precision, and buried herself in documents until fear had to wait its turn. The change in the office was subtle but real: the stares were shorter, the whisper
