Chloe was waiting in my apartment when I came home.She had a key. Of course she did. I had given it to her years ago and never taken it back. In the original timeline that key had become one more small door she walked through whenever she wanted access to my life.Tonight she sat on the edge of the sofa in a cream sweater, legs crossed, a paper bag from my favorite bakery on the table in front of her. The smell of warm pastry filled the room. She looked up when I opened the door and smiled the soft, worried smile she used when she wanted to seem harmless.“You didn’t answer my last three messages,” she said. “I got concerned.”I closed the door behind me and set my bag down. “I was working.”“You’re always working now.” She patted the cushion beside her. “Sit. I brought the almond ones you like.”I didn’t sit beside her. I took the armchair across from the sofa and kept my coat on.Chloe’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes noted the distance.“You’re angry with me,” she said gently.
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-10-06 Mehr lesen