I stepped out of the quiet café, the evening light dimming into a haze of amber and shadows across the Manhattan streets. The conversation with Dorothy still weighed heavily on me, each word a stone in my chest, each image she had shown a reminder of the man I had trusted and the irreversible loss I had endured. My hands shook slightly as I tucked my phone into the pocket of my coat, the world around me blurring into a slow-motion haze.

I knew I could not go home, not yet. Matthew would be ...