(Esther’s Point of View)
The message sat on my screen like a warning sign.
You should stop him. Some fires are not meant to be fought alone.
I stood in the park with my phone in my hand, the evening air cool against my skin. Matthew was still in front of me, his face set, his shoulders squared like he had already stepped into tomorrow.
He looked ready to walk back into the world that had almost swallowed us whole.
I hated how much I understood him.
I also hated how much I wanted to stop him.
“Who is that,” Matthew asked, nodding toward my phone.
I didn’t answer right away. My mouth felt dry. My chest felt tight.
“Esther,” he said again, softer this time. “Talk to me.”
I swallowed and held up the screen. “It’s another unknown number.”
His eyes narrowed as he read it. The muscles
