Then he nodded seriously.
“Safe.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It was the first laugh that had felt natural in months.
The bathroom door remained visible from where I sat.
For a moment, I remembered Michael’s hand turning the lock and the suitcase falling in the hallway.
Then Ethan reached for another piece of chicken, and the memory loosened its grip.
Michael had believed the dinner would erase us.
Instead, every detail he had prepared became proof that we had been there, that we had told the truth, and that we had survived him.
I did not need to raise my voice to defeat his story.
I only needed the line to remain open.
