The drive home felt endless.
Every red light seemed to hold me in place, as if the city itself wanted to prolong my reckoning. I kept replaying the sound of my name from Darius’s lips, the way it broke through everything I’d built to survive. It wasn’t supposed to be possible—he shouldn’t have known it. That name belonged to a girl I buried long ago.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, my pulse had settled into a dull, exhausted ache. The house loomed quiet, but one light burned in the living room—a warm, steady glow that told me James was still awake. The curtains were half-drawn, and through them I could see the glint of a whiskey bottle on the table.
I wanted to turn back. But there was nowhere else to go.
The door gave a soft creak as I stepped inside. The smell hit first—
