Pov: Vanessa

I didn't look right away. Instead, I let myself imagine all the things it could be—an apology, an explanation, even just a single "I'm sorry" —before finally turning the screen toward me.

My phone buzzed.

And that was the worst part.

Of course.

But I was waiting.

I set the phone down and pressed my palm flat against the cool glass of the window. Outside, a couple hurried past under a shared umbrella, laughing. They didn't seem to mind the storm.

I sat by the window, watching the rain trace slow paths down the glass. The city looked blurred—like a memory trying to come into focus. vanessa pov

Work email.