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Chapter 35 - The Clue on the Back of the Photo
Last Updated:
2026-01-23 00:40:28
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All the Names She Wore Chapter 37 - The Road to the Sea
EVANThe first thing that disappears is the signal. Not all at once. Just a slow degradation—bars thinning, data stuttering, the map app hesitating as if it’s unsure whether it should keep helping me. I don’t correct it. I let it fail.By the time the train leaves the outskirts of Rome, my phone is little more than a clock and a camera. No notifications. No background hum of connection. No soft digital reminders that someone, somewhere, knows where I am. I should feel exposed. Instead, I feel… lighter.The carriage isn’t full. A few tourists sit clustered near the windows, speaking quietly in languages I don’t try to identify. An older man sleeps with his head tipped back, mouth slightly open. A woman across the aisle reads a paperback, turning pages with deliberate slowness, like she’s rationing the story. No one looks at me. No one checks a device and frowns. No one nods too politely.I sit by the window and watch the city loosen its grip. Concrete gives way to scrub. Buildings thin
All the Names She Wore Chapter 36 - The Map
EVANI don’t pack right away. That feels important—delaying the physical act as if postponing motion might keep this from becoming real. Instead, I sit at the desk and stare at the map glowing on my laptop screen, the coordinates pinned like a wound someone insists on reopening. The coastline curves inward gently, almost deceptively calm. Pale blue water. Uneven land. A village name rendered in a font so small it feels apologetic for existing.Remote. That’s the first word that comes to mind. Remote means hard to reach. Remote means easy to disappear into. Remote means no one goes there by accident. I zoom in slowly. The roads appear reluctantly, thin lines that snake rather than connect. No highways. No rail lines cutting clean paths through terrain. Just narrow roads that seem to exist because someone once decided they had to.I click around, pulling up satellite imagery. Stone buildings. Low roofs. Weathered surfaces bleached by salt and sun. A harbor small enough to be missed if y
All the Names She Wore Chapter 35 - The Clue on the Back of the Photo
EVANI don’t look at the photo right away. It sits on the small desk in the corner of the apartment, face down, the way you leave something you know can hurt you if you make eye contact. The blinds are half open, Rome leaking in through thin slices of afternoon light. Somewhere outside, someone is laughing. A Vespa screams past. The city insists on continuity.I sit on the edge of the bed and let the sounds wash over me without absorbing any of them. My phone is dark. No new messages. No instructions. No reassurance. Silence has become the loudest presence in the room. I tell myself I’m not afraid of the image itself. I’ve already seen it. Me and Livia in the archive. Too close. Too intimate for something that hadn’t yet crossed a line. Taken from an angle that shouldn’t exist, from a height that doesn’t make sense unless someone was standing exactly where no one ever stands.What I’m afraid of is what I missed. That’s the pattern now. Not what’s shown. What’s omitted. I stand, cross
All the Names She Wore Chapter 34 - The Breaking Point
EVANThe confrontation doesn’t happen the way I imagine it will. There’s no explosion. No raised voices. No dramatic confession torn loose by anger or desperation. It happens quietly. Which somehow makes it worse.Leah is sitting up in bed when I return from the hallway, her back propped against pillows, a paper cup of water resting untouched on the tray beside her. The room is dimmer now—afternoon light filtered through half-closed blinds, the hospital settling into its softer hours. The monitor beside her keeps its steady rhythm, the sound already carved into my nervous system.She looks smaller than she did this morning. Not weaker. Smaller. As if something inside her has folded inward, conserving itself. She looks at me when I enter, and her expression tightens—not fear, not relief, but recognition. Like she already knows this moment is coming. Like she’s been waiting for it.“You’re back,” she says.“Yes.”My voice sounds wrong to my own ears—too flat. Too controlled. I pull the
All the Names She Wore Chapter 33 - The Memory Glitch
EVANI wake up with the sensation of a sentence already in my mouth. Not a dream. Not an image. A sentence—complete, shaped, waiting.Meet me by the west stairwell.It sits behind my teeth like I’ve been holding it all night. My eyes open to the hospital ceiling: flat white panels, the faint seam of fluorescent fixtures, a vent that hums softly. The chair beneath me has left a grid imprint on my forearm. My neck aches from sleeping in a position my body was never meant to accept.Across the room, Leah sleeps. She’s turned slightly toward the wall now, hair fanned across the pillow, her hand curled near her face like she’s holding something invisible. The monitor at her bedside blinks in a steady, indifferent rhythm. Every so often her brow tightens, then smooths again, like her mind is fighting something in her sleep and losing politely.I sit up slowly, careful not to make noise. The sentence remains: Meet me by the west stairwell. And with it, another detail—smaller, sharper: Livia’
All the Names She Wore Chapter 32 - The Deleted Email
EVANThe hospital room is too quiet after the stranger leaves. Not peaceful quiet. Not resting quiet. The kind of quiet that feels curated—like sound has been filtered, reduced to approved frequencies. The monitor hums. The IV ticks softly. Leah’s breathing is slow, shallow, mechanical in a way that makes my chest tighten every time her ribs rise. I sit beside her bed long after visiting hours technically end, because no one tells me to leave. That, too, feels intentional.Leah sleeps, sedated just enough to keep the fear from surfacing. Her face looks younger when she’s like this. Less guarded. Less fractured. As if the woman I married still exists somewhere beneath the layers of diagnosis and data. I watch her fingers twitch occasionally, small involuntary movements that the nurse earlier described as “benign motor variance.” Everything has a name now. Everything can be explained. Except the way the man in the hallway knew my middle name. Except the way Leah asked if someone had bee
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