Mia.
Saturday dragged like a bad confession—slow, heavy, full of things I couldn’t say out loud. Grandma was in the kitchen humming old hymns while she packed her usual casserole for the parish women’s meeting.
The whole house smelled like baked cheese and rosemary, comforting in that familiar way, but it did nothing to settle the restless ache under my skin.
I hadn’t seen Thorne since that day in his office. Not a glimpse. Not a text. My calls went straight to voicemail, each unanswered ring twisting the knife deeper.
I kept checking my phone like some pathetic addict, refreshing the screen even when I knew nothing would be there.
Tomorrow was Sunday—mass, the one place I was guaranteed to lay eyes on him—but tomorrow felt a lifetime away. My mind kept spiraling to dark places; W
