Not Waiting

There was a moment of silence on the line. I could practically hear his mind racing.

"The hotel," he repeated, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.

“Yes,” I said. “The hotel.”

“You sure?” He seemed sceptical, hesitant.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“I’ll text you the time,” I added.

“All right,” he finally said. “I’ll be there.”

He hung up before I could say anything more.

I stared down at my phone, the screen now black and warm against my palm. I exhaled, slowly, as if I’d been holding my breath the entire time. My heart was hammering in my chest, not just from the call but from what I was about to do.

I didn’t trust anyone in this house. Not Ryan, not his mother, and certainly not this so-called “retreat.” I didn’t know what they were planning, but it had nothing to do with my well-being. Whatever I had left, my intuition, my will, I had to protect it now. And my intuition told me to leave tonight.

I stood up and moved toward the window again, peering out at the garden. The sun was dipping lo