I would sit in silence.
And I would replay every word Rafael had spoken until it hollowed me out from the inside.
I turned on my heel abruptly, the movement sharper than anything I had done all evening.
The world tilted slightly as I reoriented myself, but I didn’t hesitate.
Instead of heading upstairs, I walked toward the front of the house.
The floor shifted beneath my feet as I left the dining area behind.
My hand slid along the wall until the texture changed, signaling the approach of the main hallway.
Then the door.
I found it with careful certainty.
The metal knob was cold beneath my fingers, grounding in its solidity.
I turned it slowly, feeling the resistance, then the release as the lock gave way.
And I stepped outside.
Night air greeted me immediately.
Not harsh. Not cold.
Just open.
It carried the faint scent of the estate’s gardens.
I inhaled.
My shoulders loosened by a fraction.
I followed the only path I had memorized without needing help—the wide, smooth walkway that led toward the garage.
I knew it by texture underfoot, by the absence of uneven stones, by the way sound changed when I stepped on it.
This was the route I took every morning.
To the car.
To the office.
I had taken maybe ten steps when I heard it.
Footsteps behind me.
“Miss Loretta, are you going somewhere? It’s getting quite late.”
There was concern in his tone, but also caution.
I turned toward his voice.
My chin lifted slightly, as if he could see the expression I was trying to form.
“Yes, I’m heading out. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I replied without thinking.
