I grabbed the bag I had packed in secret—clothes, some savings, the key to the small apartment I had rented under a different name. My fingers lingered on the doorknob one last time. The silence of the house pressed in around me, heavy with memories I would no longer carry.
“I won’t come back,” I whispered to the empty walls.
And then I stepped out, closing the door behind me.
---
Hours later, the sound of a key turning broke that silence.
Matthew stepped inside, his tie loosened, his expression calm, as though nothing had shifted. He moved through the hallway like he owned every shadow, every breath in the air. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a metallic clatter, then stilled when his gaze landed on the envelope.
It waited at the center of the table like a blade unsheathed.
He frowned, crossed the room, and broke the seal.
At first, his face was unreadable. His eyes skimmed the first lines, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw taut. But as he read further, the mask cracked. The muscles in his face tightened, his nostrils flared. His hand clenched so hard around the paper that it crumpled, the parchment groaning under the force.