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Amara,
If he ever bothers you again, you know where to find me.
-Enzo
I’d barely had time to process his absence before I was rushing off to work, the ache in my muscles a constant reminder of the night before. The first chance I got, I grabbed a pen and scribbled a response tomy crazed pen pal.
Enzo,
I’m still throbbing from last night and sore all over. You’re insane. Call me.
-Amara
Then, my divorce lawyer ambushed me.
“I don’t know how you did it,” he said, shaking his head. “But I commend you. I brought those papers to the judge, who signed off on them. Your divorce will be final in 31 days.”
Relief hit me hard, knocking the air from my lungs. It wasfinallyhappening. I would finally be free from my abusive husband.
“Send in your name change paperwork,” he advised. “It should all happen at once—I’ll put a rush on it.”
I could finally be Ms. Roberts instead of Mrs. Branson.
Eager to reclaim my identity, I handed over the paperwork at lunch, excited to shed every piece of my past.
The weekend passed in a blur of recovery—aching, missing Enzo, and wondering where he was.By Monday morning, I was back in my office, pretending everything was normal. It almost was.
Until I got his letter in the mail. I tore into the envelope, paper shreds scattering across my desk.
Amara,
Do I need to come and kiss it better?
-Enzo
I snorted, shaking my head as I tucked his letter into my drawer—already overflowing with his words. Grabbing my pen, I jotted down a quick reply.
Enzo,
28 more days, and it’s over. I’ll be a free woman and have my name back. I can’t wait.
-Amara
By the time the sky darkened, I was finally heading home, stuffing my response into the mailbox on my way. My steps felt lighter, my body buzzing with a rare sense of joy.
Until I felt eyes on me. A chillcrawled up my spine.
I slowed, glancing over my shoulder, spotting a hooded figure trailing too close. My heart stuttered, hope flaring. Enzo?
Then cold metal pressed against my temple.
“Hi again,” Mark snarled in my ear.
I barely had time to gasp before pain radiated across my face, and I fell on the pavement. I choked on a cry as my mouth filled with blood.
Rough hands gripped my arms, yanking me up as he dragged me toward my house. Nausea clawed at my gut, and I was dazed and dizzy as I stumbled along. He kicked my door open, his grip bruising as he shoved me inside, and I crashed onto the floor.
“You think you can get rid of me, huh?” he shouted, slamming the door behind him. “You think you can humiliate me like that, and you just get to walk away with everything?”