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"Fridge is empty," Maya calls from the kitchen. "We can stop for groceries if you want."

"I'll order something later."

My phone is where I left it—on the counter, dead for two months. Ash plugs it in while I stand in the middle of my living room, trying to remember how to exist in this space.

The phone lights up. Starts buzzing with two months of missed notifications.

I ignore it.

"Jury could take hours," Maya says. "We'll wait with you."

So we wait.

Maya makes tea I don't drink. Ash checks the windows, the locks, the street below. I sit on my couch and stare at the wall and try not to think about the last time I sat still in a room, waiting.

He was there. Cooking something. Humming off-key.

I close my eyes.

The light shifts. Afternoon bleeds toward evening.

My phone rings.

I grab it so fast I nearly knock it off the coffee table—then hate myself for hoping, even for a second, that it might be him.

Rodriguez.

"You did it, Eden. Guilty on all counts."

I wait for the relief. The triumph. Something.

"He can appeal, but no judge is going to overturn after seeing the evidence. Plus that inmate you interviewed? He took a deal. Agreed to testify in exchange for moving to a lower-security facility." A pause. "Venetti's going away for a very long time. Good work."

"Thank you."

"It's over. We'll handle the rest."

I hang up. Maya and Ash are watching me.

"Guilty," I say.

Maya's face breaks into a smile. Ash lets out a breath.

I should feel something. A year of my life wrapped up in this case, and it's finally over. The running, the hiding, the fear—all of it for this moment.

I feel nothing.

"We should celebrate," Maya says. "Get dinner, at least."

"I just want to sleep."

She and Ash exchange a look.

"We can stay," Maya offers. "Or Ash can get a hotel room and I'll sleep on the couch. If you'd feel better."

"No." I try to smile. It doesn't quite work. "I'm fine. I have to start living on my own again someday."

"Eden—"