Without another word, she turned back toward the house, leaving Emma confused and humiliated—but also strangely unsettled by her tone.
That night, in a cheap motel on Lombard Street, Emma lay awake beside Leo, staring at the ceiling as Claire’s words echoed in her mind: Come back in three days.
By morning, the rain had stopped, but the heaviness in her chest hadn’t. She spent the next two days trying to steady her world—looking for work, securing a few more nights at the motel—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Claire’s warning meant something.
On the third night, unable to resist the pull, Emma returned. She left Leo asleep at a friend’s place, promising she’d be back soon. The rain had begun again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself couldn’t let go.
When she reached the house, the lights were on—and the front door, once slammed shut to her, now stood wide open.
