Chapter 15
Going home was not the same as being healed.
The dining table still remembered the ring.
The sink remembered my hands under cold water.
The bedroom closet remembered the shoebox.
I stood in the kitchen for ten minutes before I could make coffee.
Then I made tea instead.
Baby steps.
Maya came over that afternoon and checked every lock.
Olivia sent a financial protection checklist.
Natalie sent a text.
First night home is weird. Leave lights on if you want. I did.
So I left them on.
All of them.
The apartment glowed like a lighthouse over Edgewater.
For the first week, I slept on the couch.
The bedroom felt too close to the closet.
Too close to Derek searching.
Then Carmen came over with takeout.
Elise brought wine.
Natalie brought a screwdriver and changed the closet handle because she said sometimes healing needs hardware.
We laughed harder than the joke deserved.
I realized then that Derek had tried to isolate us because isolated women are easier to rename.
Crazy.
Greedy.
Dead.
Together, we called each other by our real names.
The restitution process began.
Some money came back.
Some did not.
My apartment stayed mine.
That mattered most.
I returned to work part-time.
My boss hugged me carefully and said my job had waited.
I cried in the supply closet after.
Not because I was sad.
Because something ordinary had survived.
Suzanne wrote an apology letter from jail.
Olivia read it first.
It contained blame dressed as regret.
I told her to archive it.
Patricia wrote nothing.
Derek wrote three letters.
I burned none of them.
I kept them sealed in an evidence box.
Not because I wanted his words.
Because I liked knowing I could choose not to open them.
Choice became my favorite luxury.
More than the view.
More than the apartment.
More than money.
I could say yes.
May you like
I could say no.
And no one could throw fire at me for it anymore.
