Day forty-five felt like the house had been hollowed out overnight. The mist hung low over Maple Lane, turning the lilacs into blurred shapes outside the window, but inside it was the silence that hit hardest. Amina’s car was gone. Her room door stood open, bed stripped, a single forgotten hoodie hanging on the hook by the door. The text from her at 7:12 a.m. had been short and careful: “Made it to campus. Dorm’s loud. Thanks for yesterday. Talk soon.”
Elias read it while I was still wrapped tight in his arms in bed, his body curled around mine like armor. Morning hardness pressed hot against my a*s, but his hold felt heavier today—clingy in a way that bordered on desperate. His breath was warm against my neck, uneven.
“She’s really there,” he said, voice rough with something between rel
