The sixth day without Amina cracked something open inside the quiet house on Maple Lane. The mist had finally lifted, leaving Willow Creek glistening under a rare patch of pale sunlight that felt almost mocking. Inside, the air was heavier than ever.
I stood at the kitchen window, staring at the empty driveway, a mug of coffee cooling in my hands. Elias came up behind me, his chest pressing against my back as his arms slid around my waist in that now-constant, clingy hold. His chin rested on my shoulder, breath warm against my ear.
“She still hasn’t texted,” he murmured. “Not even to you?”
I shook my head, leaning back into him despite the guilt twisting in my stomach. “Nothing. It’s like she vanished. And every second she’s gone, I feel like the worst friend alive.”
His hands tightene
