Chapter 4

The police left before dawn.

I stood in the middle of our living room, looking at the home we'd shared for four years.

The throw pillows I'd bought. The two mugs on the table. The recipe cards on the kitchen wall. The strawberries I'd bought just yesterday in the fridge.

I used to think these things made a home. Now I knew. Without someone responding to me, all the cheerfulness was just a one-person show.

I pulled out the suitcase I'd packed earlier. A few clothes, my documents, my meds, a couple of books, and one old photo my grandmother…