IMOGEN'S POV
A week passed before I realized I'd stopped waking up expecting to hear Isaac in the kitchen.
The silence in my old apartment felt different now. Not the crushing loneliness I'd lived with before, but something sharper. More purposeful. I'd moved back here three days after our conversation about the photograph, telling Isaac it was necessary to sell the lie to Elijah. That I needed to appear independent, available, ready to be won back.
The truth was more complicated. I needed the quiet to think. To plan. To become the version of myself that could walk into a courtroom and destroy the man who'd nearly destroyed me.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. A text from Isaac.
Everything okay?
I typed back quickly. Fine. Working on testimony.
