Chapter 2
She turned it on.
There was one saved contact.
Mara.
Norah stared at the name for nearly a minute before pressing call.
Mara answered on the fourth ring, her voice thick with sleep.
“Norah?”
“I’m sorry.”
The silence on the other end changed immediately.
Mara knew that voice.
She had known Norah since university, before expensive cars and guarded elevators, before Norah had learned to read the mood of a room by the way armed men stood near the door.
“Where are you?” Mara asked.
“Somewhere safe.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Norah looked through the café window at the rain sliding down the glass.
“He forgot me before I even left.”
Mara said nothing.
Norah had never told her the full truth about Nico’s words.
She had only said that things were complicated, that his life was dangerous, and that sometimes loving him felt like standing outside a locked door with the right key in her hand.
Now the words came out in a flat, careful stream.
She told Mara about the silver tray.
She told her about Arthur’s question.
She told her about Nico laughing.
She repeated the sentence that had broken through her like cold water.
“If she walked out tonight, I wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep.”
Mara breathed in slowly.
“And you left?”
“I left the card.”
“What card?”
“The black one.”
For the first time, Mara sounded relieved.
“Good.”
Norah frowned faintly.
“Good?”
“Because if you had taken it, you might have convinced yourself you were still connected to him.”
Norah looked down at her empty hands.
“I’m not connected to him.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
The café door opened, letting in a gust of rain-cooled air.
Norah lowered her voice.
“I don’t know where to go.”
“You’re coming here.”
“Mara—”
“You’re coming here, and you’ll stay as long as you need.”
“I don’t want to bring trouble to your door.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
Mara’s voice softened.
“And I know the difference between trouble and a woman who finally stopped carrying everyone else’s fear.”
Norah closed her eyes.
For the first time that night, she allowed herself to cry.
She did not cry loudly.
She simply bowed her head over the untouched coffee while tears fell onto the table, one after another, as quietly as the rain.
Mara stayed on the phone until the crying passed.