A paperback.
Not hers.
Not one of the half-read thrillers stacked on her nightstand.
This one looked new. Clean cover. No cracked spine.
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing, and saw the page was open.
One sentence underlined in fresh ink.
A good ending is the one nobody sees coming.
Sara’s throat went dry.
She lifted the book carefully by the corner like it might bite her.
Inside the cover, written in neat block letters:
YOU LIKE STORIES.
SO DO I.
Her hand trembled just once.
Then she saw something else.
Her photo.
The one she kept tucked away—hidden, private, stupidly precious.
Sara and Scout at the cookout, shoulders touching, both laughing.
It was out.
Displayed.
She set the book down and crossed to her nightstand.
The drawer was slightly off. Not open—just… wrong.
Sara slid it open.
Her pulse hammered.
Everything inside was there.
Nothing missing.
But it had been looked through.
A violation so careful it made her skin crawl.
She shut the drawer and stood still in the middle of the room.
Think. Don’t panic.
Her eyes swept the apartment again.
