Page 36 of Tempest’s Torment

A laugh slips out before I can stop it and his eyes lift to mine for a second before he looks back at the wheel. The silence that settles between us isn't awkward, it's easy. I didn't think that was possible anymore.

"You alright?" he asks.

I sigh. "It’s been a long day."

He gives a small nod, like that's explanation enough. "I'm glad it's over."

"So am I."

Another quiet settles between us and neither of us seems in a hurry to fill it.

"I should let you get back to it."

He nods. "See you."

"Bye." I head inside, my apartment key already in my hand when I see it.

An envelope.

It’s slightly under my door, it’s white, no stamp and no address, just my name written across the front: Lilah.

I stop. Every muscle in my body goes tight, because someone knows my name and knows where I live. I can't make myself move.

The front door opens behind me, heavy boots cross the hallway, but they stop a few feet away. I don't turn around, I can’t; I’m rooted to the spot.

"Lilah?" His voice is calm.

I can't answer. I just stare at the envelope. A moment passes but then I hear him move closer.

CHAPTER SIX

tempest

Something's off, the moment I hit the top step to our apartments I see that Lilah's standing outside her apartment like someone hit pause, the key’s in the lock, her bag’s over her shoulder, but she’s not moving.

She hasn't turned around, her eyes on the floor. I follow her line of sight and see a white envelope, halfway under her door, with her name written in black ink on the front.

Lilah.

My eyes move, left down the hallway, right, the closed stairwell door, the window at the end is latched, and the storage room door is shut. I listen for ten seconds without doing anything else. There’s no movement, no sounds from behind closed doors, and there's nothing out of place.

"Lilah," I call out. Nothing. She doesn’t speak or move. "Did you leave that there?"

She shakes her head; I can see that she’s trembling.

"Stay where you are,” I tell her as I keep my voice level.

I move past her without touching her and crouch in front of the envelope. I study it for a second before picking it up; it’s plain white, with no stamp, no return address, just her name across the front. I turn it over, and there’s nothing on the back. There’s no clue as to who dropped it here or when. I glance down the hallway one more time.

"Do you want me to open it?"

She's still facing the door, she hasn't moved since I came up the stairs. A long silence fills the hallway.

Her head dips; she’s still not speaking, but I take that as a yes. I slip a finger under the flap and open it, holding it at a slight angle away from both of us.

There's one single page; I unfold it. There’s one line, and it’s typed.

Did you miss me?