The tears that had flowed throughout the journey home had washed nothing away. They had only dug the furrow of shame and terror deeper within Marina. She collapsed on the floor of her entryway, not even having the strength to reach the sofa. The cold of the tiles seeped through her jeans, but it was a trivial pain compared to the burn consuming her insides.
"I should have kept quiet," she sobbed into the apartment's silence. "I should have lied, invented a name, anything."
The words, once released, had become rabid dogs she could no longer catch. She imagined Léna's fury, that cold hatred that must now be spreading like an ink stain. And Chris… what would Chris say when he found out? From Léna, of course. She would deliver the news like plunging a knife, twisting the blade.
Her phone vi
