"Fridge is empty," Maya calls from the kitchen. "We can stop for groceries if you want."
"I'll order something later."
My phone is where I left it—on the counter, dead for two months. Ash plugs it in while I stand in the middle of my living room, trying to remember how to exist in this space.
The phone lights up. Starts buzzing with two months of missed notifications.
I ignore it.
"Jury could take hours," Maya says. "We'll wait with you."
So we wait.
Maya makes tea I don't drink. Ash checks the windows, the locks, the street below. I sit on my couch and stare at the wall and try not to think about the last time I sat still in a room, waiting.
He was there. Cooking something. Humming off-key.
I close my eyes.
The light shifts. Afternoon bleeds toward evening.
My phone rings.
I grab it so fast I nearly knock it off the coffee table—then hate myself for hoping, even for a second, that it might be him.
Rodriguez.
"You did it, Eden. Guilty on all counts."
I wait for the relief. The triumph. Something.
"He can appeal, but no judge is going to overturn after seeing the evidence. Plus that inmate you interviewed? He took a deal. Agreed to testify in exchange for moving to a lower-security facility." A pause. "Venetti's going away for a very long time. Good work."
"Thank you."
"It's over. We'll handle the rest."
I hang up. Maya and Ash are watching me.
"Guilty," I say.
Maya's face breaks into a smile. Ash lets out a breath.
I should feel something. A year of my life wrapped up in this case, and it's finally over. The running, the hiding, the fear—all of it for this moment.
I feel nothing.
"We should celebrate," Maya says. "Get dinner, at least."
"I just want to sleep."
She and Ash exchange a look.
"We can stay," Maya offers. "Or Ash can get a hotel room and I'll sleep on the couch. If you'd feel better."
"No." I try to smile. It doesn't quite work. "I'm fine. I have to start living on my own again someday."
"Eden—"
