I didn’t sleep that night, I wasn’t able to.
I watched the shadows shift across the ceiling, the moon dragging itself from windowpane to windowpane like it, too, was restless.
The envelope Catherine left sat on the nightstand like it was waiting to bite. I’d opened it, yes but I hadn’t read everything, I couldn’t.
The pages weren’t just paper. They were detonators. I was afraid that if I touched them again, something else would explode.
By 6 a.m., I was in the kitchen, robe on, tea untouched. My laptop glowed in the soft morning dark, and Nova was still fast asleep upstairs.
Noah had gone out for an early jog, something he’d started doing again to “clear his mind,” as he called it. He kissed my forehead before he left and said he’d be back in 30 minutes.
I waited until the door close
