(Karen’s POV – Present Tense)

There are moments when silence becomes a language

and in this house, it’s fluent.

Dre hasn’t spoken to me since the morning I found the journal.

It was buried beneath the bottom drawer of his desk.

Yasmin’s handwriting, delicate, looping, every letter pressed into the page like it was meant to bleed through time.

At first, I told myself it couldn’t be hers.

Then I read the first line.

“For him, I would’ve burned the world, and she was the ...