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and hissing outside the windows, there was silence, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that, in that very instant, I was being watched.
    Could it be Jett?
    It had to be him. The thought that it might be someone else perturbed me. However, I had to take that into account and be prepared for anything. For a few minutes I just stood there, the image from before replaying in my mind on a constant loop while my eyes continued to scan the street outside the glass door.
    Whatever that flash of movement had been, it had happened too quickly, and the thudding sound had been too sudden. Was it possible that I was being paranoid?
    Again and again, my eyes scanned the streets. Apart from a few passing vehicles, the night remained as quiet as a tomb. No one walked past. No one emerged from behind the bushes and trees that were bathed in darkness. Eventually, I decided that maybe my nerves were overworked and my unsettled mind had played a trick on me. Not only was I tired, but I also had a hard day behind me.
    Riding the elevator up to the fifth floor to our small apartment, I decided that I had to deal with my stress level. Jett had occupied my mind for too long; he had become a distraction from more important issues. If I wanted to build my life without him, I needed to take a break from even thinking about him. My thoughts and feelings for him had become a bitter poison to my soul, and there was only one solution: I had to get rid of them—the anger, the denial, the pity. Anything would do, as long as my thoughts stopped circling back to him and I would stop seeing his face in my mind. I figured, once I arrived home, I’d write a list so that I’d never forget what Jett had done to me and learn to accept what had happened in order to leave the past behind.

I pushed the key into the lock and let myself in, welcoming the faint smell of my former home and the silence that seemed to penetrate every wall. Sylvie’s designer handbag, coat, and heels were gone, meaning she was out, probably working late or on a date. Dropping my handbag on the old coffee table in the hall, I kicked off my shoes, and headed into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I ate slowly, taking measured bites, then slumped onto the bed in my room. My body felt exhausted, but I was unable to close my eyes and rest because of the racing thoughts in my mind.
    Eventually, I couldn’t bear the mental torture anymore. I had to check if the legal firm had called back, so I switched on my cell phone, ignoring the hammering in my chest at the thought that Jett might have tried to contact me. I was afraid of his next lie, afraid that hearing his voice or even reading his texts might catapult me back onto dangerous terrain, where each word was like a double-sided blade: beautiful to look at but too dangerous to come close to.
    The screen came to life and sure enough, text messages and call notifications began to pop up one after another. My skin prickled as my fingers swiped over the message button.
    Crap.
    Two text messages and eight calls. And all were from Jett.
    Still no reply from the legal firm. But it was a weekend, so I wasn’t particularly surprised. Sinking back against the cushions, I stared at Jett’s name, a part of me wondering what he had to say while a different part of me wished I could just tell him to go to hell. While it wasn’t like me to seek confrontation, the silence suffocated me. With a sigh, I unclasped the necklace from around my neck and locked it inside a drawer—the action making me feel better already, as though I was finally taking my fate into my own hands. Yet sadness continued to linger inside my heart. As the seconds turned to minutes, my indecision tugged at me, until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to read his messages. At least one. Without hesitation, almost automatically, I opened the first text message.
    Baby, I’m done at work and will be back at the hotel in 10 min. Can’t wait to see you.
    He sounded so