Page 55 of Dual

I end the call and throw the suitcase back into the trunk, covering it with a blanket. No one needs to see that. Not now. Not ever. Especially not Domhn.

The drive home is a blur. I follow the GPS, watching the landscape as it takes hours to go from empty fields to suburbs to the familiar streets of our Dallas neighborhood. My hands don't stop shaking the entire time.

I pull into the garage and park carefully, positioning the car so the damaged bumper is hidden against the back corner. Domhnall won't be home for another hour yet, if I'm lucky. If I'm fast, I'll have time to clean up whatever mess Mads left behind. Again.

Inside, the house is exactly as I remember it from New Year's Eve. It's only been a day, but it feels like weeks havepassed. I drag myself up the stairs, every muscle aching, the cut on my back throbbing with each step.

Our bedroom is a disaster—drawers left open, clothes strewn across the floor. And there, on Domhnall's pillow, is a folded piece of paper.

I snatch it up, my hands shaking as I unfold it.

Donny,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I have to leave.

I'm sorry for everything I've done, and everything I couldn't be.

Always yours,

M

"No," I whisper, rage building inside me again. "You don't get to do this."

I tear the letter into tiny pieces, letting them flutter into the trash can like snow. Mads doesn't get to make these decisions for us. She doesn't get to decide our future. She doesn't get to run away from Domhnall.

I strip off my bloody clothes, shoving them to the bottom of the laundry basket and piling other clothes on top, then step into the shower, turning the water as hot as I can stand it. I scrub until my skin is raw, watching pink water swirl down the drain. The cut on my back stings under the spray, but I welcome the pain. It helps me focus.

As I dry off, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Myeyes are mine, not hers. My body is mine, not hers. There's a cut at my temple, so I blow-dry my hair to hang over it.

"This ends now," I tell my reflection. "No more."

I drink three Red Bulls in quick succession, the caffeine making my already racing heart beat even faster. I won't sleep tonight. I can't risk losing control again. Not before I see Dr. Renwick tomorrow morning.

When Domhnall comes home, I greet him with a kiss and a smile that feels stretched too thin across my face.

"Hey, love," he says, studying me with those too-perceptive eyes. "Everything alright?"

"Just tired," I lie, leading him to the living room. "Sit down. Let me give you a massage. You look tense."

He does as I ask, settling on the couch with his back to me. I dig my fingers into the knots in his shoulders, focusing on making him relax. On being a good fiancée. On appearing fuckingnormal.

"That feels amazing," he murmurs, head dropping forward. "You're too good to me."

Guilt twists in my stomach. I should tell him about Mads, about the car and the suitcase. But the words stick in my throat. She tried to leave you.To take me away from you.

He'd be devastated to know she was planning to leave. And maybe, if my plan works, he'll never need to know.

"I love you," I whisper, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "More than anything."

He doesn't suspect a thing. And I can't tell if that makes me feel better or worse.

Later, after he's fallen asleep, I curl up in the armchair across from our bed, another Red Bull clutched in my hand. I watch the rise and fall of his chest, memorizing the lines of his face in the dim light.

I won't lose him. I won't lose this life we're building. Not toher. Not to fucking anyone.

The night passes in a haze of caffeine and determination. By morning, my eyes burn and my hands shake, but I'm still here. Still Anna.

I leave before Domhnall wakes up, a note on my pillow saying I have an early appointment with Dr. Ezra. Another lie to add to the pile, but frankly, I can't give a good goddamn. When I say I'd do anything to stay with Domhn, I mean it. The fury at Mads has shaved down any guilt I might be feeling.