My fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles pale with pressure. The car engine purred softly, the dashboard clock telling me dinner time at Miss Karen's was already five minutes in. But I wasn't ready. Not yet.
The porch light was on. Her silhouette flickered briefly through the window as she passed by—probably setting the table, probably humming that off-tune melody she always did when she cooked. My stomach twisted and turned.
I wasn't sure what hurt more: the idea of confronting her, or the thought that any of this could be real.
Miss Karen. The same woman who'd been there for me when I had no one, not even Darren. The same woman who'd hugged me after Darren's funeral like her heart had broken too. It didn't make sense. How could she have sold Darren to the orphanage?
I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled. I wasn't ready to believe it. Not without hearing her side.
A buzz startled me out of my spiral. My phone lit up—Melody.
I hesitated. For a long beat, I just stared at the screen. Part of me didn't want to bring her into this mess again. But the other part—the part still clinging to some semblance of warmth—needed to hear her voice. We hadn't spoken since we had that fight. I sent her a message though but she hadn't replied. I told her I was waiting for her. I told her I missed her…
I swiped to answer.
"Hey," she said softly.
Her voice still had that delicate warmth, like chamomile tea on a bad night. I let myself sink into it for a second.
"Hey," I replied.
There was a short pause, like she didn't know how to begin.
"I just… I wanted to say I'm sorry," she said. "For everything. For what I tried to do. Framing Saavni… it was stupid. I just—I was scared. I thought this case would ruin you. I thought it'd take you away from me. I didn't want to lose you. I was scared to lose you."
Her honesty came out in a rush, fragile but sincere. I leaned back in the seat, head resting against the leather.
"I know," I said quietly. "And I forgive you."
"You do?" Her voice cracked slightly, as if she hadn't expected that.
"I've missed you, Mel," I said, lowering my voice. "More than I wanted to admit."
That made her laugh, breathy and surprised. "You always know how to say just the right thing when you want to."
We fell into an easy rhythm, the conversation stretching, soft and practiced. For a moment, the tension pressing on my chest loosened.
"Oh," she suddenly perked up. "I almost forgot to tell you—they promoted me. Early."
I blinked. "Wait, really? Editor-in-chief?"
"Mhm," she said with pride. "Official announcement's next week, but it's done."
"I'm so proud of you, baby. That's my woman."
She chuckled.
"And guess what? My old position's open. I already recommended you."
"Me?"
She laughed. "Don't act so shocked. You've got the skills. And if you're not chasing down murder cases, you might as well do something meaningful with your writing."
I smiled, just a little. "Thanks, Mel. I really appreciate it. But I can't think about that yet. Not until I figure out what happened to Darren."
She was quiet for a moment. I could tell she was disappointed, but then she said gently, "Okay. I get it. Just… don't disappear. I'll wait. However long it takes."
That meant more than she probably realized.
"I love you," I said softly.
There was a pause, and then she said it back, with that small, hopeful lilt in her voice. I hung up.
I stared at the porch one last time. My heart still beat unevenly, but something had shifted. Melody's words anchored me. I felt steadier.
I took one last breath, grabbed the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of the car.
It was time to face Miss Karen.