The screen dimmed softly until I brushed my fingers across it.
The calendar expanded.
Not to today, or even this week. No, an archived view slid into place instead - faded slightly, the dates stamped years ago.
Wedding week.
My breath caught.
Old entries filled the screen, written in my shorthand. Appointments crossed out. Notes I barely remembered making.
And there it was.
John - call Seth.
My stomach dropped.
I hadn’t added that here. I hadn’t even known this system kept archived data that far back.
Trevor must have synced my phone years ago - back when I couldn’t keep track of anything, when he’d offered to “handle the logistics.”
The system hadn’t created the reminder.
It had kept it.
I stared at the screen, something cold sliding into place beneath my ribs.
Why keep that?
Why not delete it?
I tapped the display and collapsed the archive before I could think better of it.
The screen went dark.
I braced my hands on the counter, palms flat against the cool surface, grounding myself.
My heart beat harder now, less grief and more… awareness.
I replayed the interview in my head. Detective Marshal’s pauses. The careful phrasing. The things that hadn’t been said.
I thought about Seth.
The way he’d stopped himself from offering more.
I thought about Trevor.
You don’t have to manage this.
I’ll handle it.
My phone buzzed again.
Trevor: Running late. Don’t worry. I’ve got it
I stared at the text on my phone screen.
Got what? I almost typed.