By the time Aveline got to work, the sky was fully awake, that hazy gray giving way to the ruthless glare of midmorning. She felt wired — not from sleep, because she hadn't really gotten any — but from the steady hum of adrenaline still running through her veins. A secret tucked beneath her skin.
The watch sat in her bag, cool against her fingertips every time she reached for her lip gloss or keys. It felt heavier than it should, like a promise or a loaded question.
She waited until lunch break. Could've called sooner. Didn't. Let him sweat, if he even noticed it missing.
But something told her he had.
Perched on the edge of the back stairwell, cigarette dangling from her lips though she didn't bother lighting it, Aveline pulled out her phone. Stared at the screen for a beat too long. His number was still in there from last night's blurry, half-drunken exchange when he texted to say he was downstairs.
Stefan Shepherd. She hit call before she could talk herself out of it.
