Then my fingers moved, almost against my will.
Elizabeth:We went to the rooftop bistro. He told me a story about nearly dying on a bike. I laughed.
Elizabeth:Ilaughed.
Elizabeth:What the hell is happening to me?
Almost instantly—
Lillian:OH MY GOD OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING
Mary:You’re feelingfeelings. Welcome to the dark side. We have wine.
Lillian:Can we please meet today? I need to hear your voice while you admit youlikesomeone. In person. No ghosting. No excuses.
Mary:I’m already clearing my schedule. LUNCH. YOU. ME. HER.
I stared at the screen and laughed under my breath.
A real one.
I typed:
Elizabeth:Fine. Noon. The café near Adonis’s office. I’ll bring my sarcasm; you bring my dignity in a paper bag.
I tossed the phone back on the bed and stood, stretching. Something in my chest felt light. Strange. Not quite happiness… but close enough to make me scared.
Was this what normal girls felt like after a date?
I padded down the hall, bare feet against cold floors, brushing my hair back as I descended the stairs.
But the moment I stepped into the front room—
The feeling shattered.
Like glass in my ribs. Like steel in my spine.
I froze. There, in the center of the room, stood my mother.
Her hair was pinned back, her stance clean and combat-ready, her eyes cold. And at her feet, on his knees, was myfather.
Alive. Hands behind his head. A knife pressed against his throat.
“I don’t believe it,” she said calmly.
“You expect me to believe yousurvivedthe blast in Berlin? Without a trace? Without a signal? Not a single piece of intel?”
Her voice was stone.
“I think you’re a liar. A spy wearing a dead man’s face.”
He didn’t flinch.
“Hello, Liz,” he said softly, eyes locking with mine.
“You’ve grown.”
My throat tightened.
