“I hung up on my mother,” Stella said.
“Yeah.”
“She’s going to be furious.”
“Probably.”
Stella set the phone on the counter. Her hands were shaking—not from fear exactly, but from something bigger she couldn’t name.
Tyler still didn’t offer comfort. Didn’t try to fix it. Just sat there, solid and present, while the silence stretched.
“I thought I’d feel different,” Stella said finally. “Relieved or something.”
“Do you?”
“I feel like I might throw up.”
“That’s the adrenaline.”
“Great.”
She slid off the stool and walked to the window. The street was quiet. Mrs. Patterson’s cat was sunning itself on the warm sidewalk. Normal morning. Normal day.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“I know.”
Stella turned back. Tyler was still on the stool, shoulders hunched, staring at her phone on the counter like it might explode.
“She’s not going to let this go,” Stella said.
“No.”
“She’s going to?—”
The phone buzzed.
They both froze.
Stella crossed back to the counter. Picked it up and read the text.
I’ve booked a flight. I’ll be there Saturday. This conversation isn’t over.
She read it twice. Three times.
“What?” Tyler asked.
She turned the phoneso he could see.
His face went still. Then he let out a long breath and rubbed his hand over his jaw.
“Thursday,” he said.
“Three days.”
