Every scenario feels dreadful.
Terrifying.
But I can no longer take the silence.
My grip on the steering wheel is so tight my fingers ache as I make the last turn onto his quiet, tree-lined street.With quivering hands, I guide the car into the driveway and cut the engine.
Matthew’s house, once an escape and refuge, seems forbidding now under the fading light.
I stare at the front door, imagining him behind it.
Ignoring me?Angry?Hurting?
The not-knowing is driving me insane.
Please, Matthew,the thought is a silent plea.
After a deep, shuddering breath, I force my hand to grip the handle and open my car door.
No more waiting.
THIRTY SEVEN
THE FRESH EVENING air carries the scent of grass and the quiet hush of the suburban street settling into dusk.My legs feel shaky, disconnected, as I swing them out of my car and onto the driveway.I close the door, the soft thud the only sound in the stillness.For a long moment, I just stand there, clutching my purse straps, staring at Matthew’s house.Cream stone and brown accents.Windows like dark, impassive eyes reflect the deepening twilight.
My heart hammers against my throat, a painful, insistent rhythm.Each step up the gravel path feels heavy, each footfall echoing louder than it should.
The solid door stands silent before me.
The unassuming doorbell beside it seems impossibly small for the enormity of what pressing it represents.The soft chime echoes faintly from inside the house, the sound swallowed by the thick wood of the door.And then…
Silence.
I stand frozen, straining my ears for any sound of movement within.
Footsteps, a voice, anything.
Nothing.
Only the thudding of my heart and the whisper of the evening breeze rustling the leaves.
Seconds stretch into an eternity.
My shoulders slump.A weary disappointment settles over me, quickly followed by the sting of humiliation.
Of course.
What did I expect?
After all the unanswered messages, the calls straight to voicemail, showing up here was desperate, foolish.
Inhaling a sharp breath of resigned acceptance, I turn away.
The distinct click of a deadbolt turning cuts through the silence behind me.
I freeze mid-step, my back rigid, every nerve ending instantly on high alert.
Slowly, holding my breath, I turn back around.
