Page 51 of Override

“I love it.”

“You’ll drown in that thing.”

“I’ll grow.”

And eventually I had.

Mostly.

The sleeves still swallow half my hands when I wear it, the cuffs fraying years ago from constant use while the inside stayed impossibly soft no matter how many times it went through the wash.

Whenever I got sick growing up, I wore it. Whenever I missed home at boarding school, I wore it. Whenever life felt too loud—I wore it.

The thought settles warmly through me for the first time all day.

Finally. Something that still feels like mine.

I move toward the closet automatically, already picturing the faded navy fabric balled somewhere near the back shelf where I usually kept it folded beneath sweaters Ronan would never willingly let me wear in public.

But when I reach for it—nothing’s there.

I pause.

Then start moving hangers aside more carefully. Silk. Cashmere. Cream wool. Black dresses. No hoodie.

My brow furrows slightly. Weird. I crouch lower, checking the shelf beneath it next.

Nothing. Maybe it's in the laundry.

The explanation comes easily enough at first while I move deeper into the closet searching through drawers and folded stacks.

Still nothing. The warmth from earlier starts fading slowly beneath my ribs. I check the laundry basket. The sitting room. The chair near the bedroom windows.

Nothing.

Now my pulse kicks once harder.

I head downstairs still barefoot, robe tied tightly around my waist while one of the evening house staff looks up immediately from the dining room hallway.

“Marisol,” I call softly. “Have you seen my navy hoodie? The oversized one?”

Her expression changes instantly. Tiny shift. Tiny hesitation. But enough.

“No, ma’am.”

Something cold curls low in my stomach. “It was upstairs this week.”

“I haven’t seen it.”

She won’t fully meet my eyes. Not directly. My heartbeat stumbles strangely.

“Could it have gone to laundry?”

“I can check.”

But she says it too quickly. Too carefully. Like she already knows the answer.

I stand there silently while unease slowly spreads through my chest.