I press them to my chest for one last breath, one last second of hesitation, before I slide both deep into the darkness behind the towels.
The space is so narrow I have to push hard to get them in.
My hands shake.
My heart stutters.
But the letters disappear into shadow.
Hidden.
Buried.
Breathing against each other like secrets with their own pulse.
I pull the towels back into place, neat and even, just the way Noah likes them.
He’ll never notice anything moved.
I close the cupboard softly.
As if closing a casket.
My knees threaten to buckle again, but I steady myself on the counter. The marble is cold against my palms, grounding me in a reality I’m not sure I want.
Kai was here.
Kai opened the envelope I returned.
Kai kept it with him for years.
Kai brought it back like a promise.
He wants me to look.
He wants me to remember.
He wants me to bleed with him.
I grip the sink harder.
I shouldn’t hide them.
But I can’t destroy them.
I can’t bring myself to throw them away.
My body won’t let me.
That realisation burns worst of all.
A knock—soft but sharp—hits the door.
My heart stops.
“Scarlett?”
Noah’s voice.
