Before we knew how to let go

Chapter 4

Nora did not sleep well.

The night stretched thin and restless, filled with half-awareness and small sounds that refused to fade. The house settled around her, old and expressive. The wind brushed against the windows. Pipes shifted in complaint. Everything seemed louder in the dark.

Her thoughts returned again and again to the drawer.

She had not opened the letter, and that restraint felt deliberate, almost ceremonial. Knowing something existed was manageable. Knowing what it contained would not be.

Sometime after midnight, she went to the kitchen. The overhead light hummed faintly. She poured a glass of water, drank only half of it, then stood staring at the sink as though it might offer guidance.

She wondered how long Evelyn had kept the drawer locked. Whether she had ever intended to open it herself, or whether she had simply been waiting for time to run out.

The Morning arrived without relief.

“You look exhausted,” Evelyn said over breakfast.

“That makes two of us.”

Evelyn studied her closely. “You are not sleeping.”

“Neither are you.”

“That is different.”

Nora did not argue. She buttered toast that she barely touched.

“Are you staying?” Evelyn asked.

“I told you. I do not know.”

Evelyn’s gaze drifted toward the window. “Some things are better left where they are.”

Nora stiffened. “I did not say I was digging up the past.”

“No,” Evelyn replied. “You did not.”

The implication lingered.

Needing air, Nora left the house and walked toward the cliffs beyond town. The path felt narrower than memory allowed, hemmed in by tall grass and stone. The ocean spread out below, vast and indifferent.

She stopped well back from the edge.

“You do not have to go any closer.”

Eli stood behind her, close enough that his presence felt intentional but not invasive.

“I am fine where I am,” Nora said.

“I figured.”

They stood together, the wind tugging at their coats.

“I do not remember everything,” Nora said suddenly. “About that time.”

Eli did not interrupt.

“I remember how I felt. Not what actually happened.”

“That makes sense,” he said quietly.

“It does not feel like it.”

He nodded. “Trauma does not care what feels logical.”

She looked at him then. “Did you ever wonder if I was wrong?”

“About what?”

“About myself.”

Eli considered the question. “I wondered why you never allowed yourself doubt it"

Nora swallowed. “I did. I just did not know how to survive it.”

They did not touch, but the distance between them felt smaller.

When Nora returned home, the house felt heavier, as though it had absorbed the day. She stood outside her mother’s room, staring at the door longer than necessary.

The drawer waited.

Not yet, she told herself.

But soon.