That evening, I received a friend request on Telegram from Sandra.
Sandra: [Ross, I think I might've misunderstood. I hope you and Lily don't hold any misunderstandings about me.]
How pretentious.
I accepted her request with a hint of feigned politeness.
Ross: [I don't blame you. Lily and I had discussed giving you and Finn a house. It's just that Finn is still too immature.]
Just as I sent the message, an unfamiliar number flashed on my phone screen.
"Ross, my husband hasn't been home for days. Do you think something's happened to him?"
It was Josephine on the other end, her voice trembling with panic, her words spilling out in a frantic blur.
"It's fine, I'll come right over. Don't worry," I assured her.
"Okay, hurry."
I scrambled to find a cigarette. Just as I was about to step out, the door suddenly opened, and Lily appeared.
"It's late. Where are you going?"
Her face was as pale as it had been that night—emotionless, as though her features were frozen in pla
