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Charlotte had stayed with me. She brought me home, made certain I was settled, and then quietly claimed my sofa as though there had been no other possibility. She had asked nothing of me. Not in the car and not before she wished me good night. She kept the promise she made, and I had slept far more deeply than I had thought possible.

I walked into the living room. Charlotte was in the kitchen, moving with the exaggerated quietness of someone trying very hard not to wake another person. I smiled despite myself. After everything that had happened yesterday, I was so grateful.

“You’re awake,” she said, walking toward me with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to me and we both settled on the sofa. “I ordered breakfast. It just got here.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

We ate slowly. Charlotte asked if I wanted more coffee before my cup was half empty. She told me the bakery downstairs had changed their croissants and that she hadn’t decided yet if she was willing to forgive that decision. At one point, she looked out the window and announced it might finally rain. All of it was small talk. And it was precisely what I needed.

Every now and then, she glanced at me, making sure that I was still there. If she noticed I wasn’t eating much, she kept the observation to herself. We had nearly finished breakfast when someone knocked at the door.

Charlotte looked toward the sound before looking back at me. “Are you taking visitors this morning?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I’ll deal with it.” She disappeared into the entryway and a moment later, I heard the door open.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

His reply was too quiet for me to make out. There was a brief pause.

Then Charlotte said, “Of course.” When she returned, she was carrying a cream-colored envelope.

“Marcus brought this for you.”

She held it out to me. I took it. My name was written across the front in Alexander’s hand. Charlotte returned to her breakfast without another word. I slipped a finger beneath the seal. Inside was a single sheet of stationery.

Emilia,

I’m relieved you’re home. When you’d like to see me, I’ll come.

--Alexander

The words were so few, they left nowhere for anything to hide. I folded it carefully and rested it on the table beside my coffee. I looked up at Charlotte.

“I think…” I hesitated, searching for the words. “I think I’d like a little time by myself.”

She didn’t look surprised. “Of course.”

She stood, carried our empty mugs to the kitchen, gathered her bag from beside the door, and put on her coat.

“I’ll come back later,” she said. “Or not. You tell me what you need.”

I stood up and hugged her. “Thank you, Charlotte. I appreciate you so much.”

When she was at the door, she turned around. “Lock the door behind me.”

Then, she was gone.

For the first time since the elevator doors opened to the ninth floor, I was alone.

* * *

I stayed on the sofa, finishing my coffee slowly. Then, I stood.

I lit the candle on the bookshelf before crossing to the small speaker near the window. A few familiar notes from Debussy drifted softly through the apartment, settling into the silence rather than disturbing it. I wrapped my favorite blanket around my shoulders and returned to the sofa, drawing my feet beneath me.