Lahat ng Kabanata ng All the Names She Wore: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 64

EVANI walk through the station with my shoulders squared, my bag pulling against my hand, my jaw clenched like I am biting down on an apology I will never get to speak. Above me, the departure board flips letters in small, mechanical judgments. Somewhere in the crowd, a child laughs. Someone calls a name that is not mine. A couple argues as if nothing in the world could be more important than who forgot to buy milk.I keep moving.I have spent too long letting momentum choose for me. Letting fear dictate which street I take, which door I avoid, which truth I postpone. If this is a cage, then I am done circling the bars like an animal that still believes there is a corner where the metal turns soft.She saw me on the cliff.She did not run.She did not call out.She simply watched, white against the sky, still as if she had stepped out of a dream and decided to remain there until I understood the point of it. And when she mouthed that single word—Wait—it did not feel like a warning. I

EVANThe package is waiting outside my door when I return from the vending machine at the end of the hall. It is small, plain, and unmarked, the kind of object that would be forgettable in any other context. My name is written across the front in careful block letters, neither hurried nor decorative, as if it were printed by someone who does not need to disguise their handwriting because they have nothing to fear from recognition.I stand over it for a moment before picking it up, aware of the camera mounted near the ceiling at the end of the corridor. The awareness feels automatic now, like checking traffic before crossing a street. I carry the envelope inside and close the door gently behind me, resisting the urge to lock it twice.The room looks the same as it did earlier, yet the air feels disturbed, as if something invisible has already passed through it. I place the envelope on the desk and sit down, studying it as though it might reveal its purpose if I wait long enough. My han