Chapter 3

That Wednesday night, Brian got a call while we were eating.

He listened for a moment, and his expression darkened.

He hung up and walked out to the balcony, lowering his voice.

But I caught one sentence.

"Don't cry. I'll figure something out," he said.

He came back, sat down, and kept eating in silence.

I kept quiet too.

The next evening, as I got home from work, I spotted someone at the entrance to our building.

She was wearing a cream-colored coat, her hair tied in a low ponytail.

She was standing by the gate, holding a bag of…