41. Home Again
Mara
I didn't like the silence anymore.
The first night without Zander had felt lonely, the second had felt empty. By the third, it felt wrong.
The television played quietly in the background, though I couldn't have told anyone what was on.
A mug of tea had gone cold on the coffee table nearly an hour ago, the book in my lap remained open to the same page. I wasn't reading. I was waiting.
Every few minutes, my eyes drifted toward the front door as though sheer determination could make it open. I sighed and looked at the clock.
Half past eleven.
"You're late," I murmured to the empty room.
My phone sat beside me. There were no messages, no missed calls.
I reached into my purse and unfolded the note he had left me three days earlier. The paper was already beginning t
