Chapter 12 - Nora Goes HomeNora returned to the apartment twelve days after the fall.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she needed to stand in the place that had almost destroyed her and prove to herself that it could not swallow her whole.
Mrs. Alvarez met her at the entrance with soup, clean blankets, and a hug so careful it made Nora cry.
“I’m sorry,” the older woman whispered.
“You saved the folder.”
“I should have saved you.”
Nora pulled back.
“You did more than most people.”
Upstairs, the apartment was quiet.
Too clean.
Liam had removed his clothes, his tools, his shaving kit, the mug that said World’s Okayest Husband. He had left the furniture. He had left the dishes Nora had chosen. He had left a note on the kitchen table, but it was sealed and addressed to her attorney.
Good.
He had finally learned not to force himself into her hands.
Nora walked to the balcony.
The lock was gone.
Cold air seeped through the frame.
For several minutes, she could not move.
She remembered the glass.
Her breath fogging.
Her fingers pounding weakly.
Liam turning off the light.
Then Gwen’s smile in the dark.
Her knees trembled.
Mrs. Alvarez came up behind her.
“You don’t have to do this today.”
“Yes,” Nora whispered. “I do.”
She opened the balcony door.
The air hit her face.
Her body remembered fear before her mind could stop it. She gripped the doorframe with her good hand and forced herself to breathe.
In.
Out.
Again.
The balcony was small. Just a square of concrete, two folding chairs, and a dead basil plant Nora had forgotten to bring inside before the first frost.
She stepped out.
One foot.
Then the other.
Below, the tree stood bare and silent.
The world did not end.
Nora closed her eyes.
“I’m still here,” she whispered.
Mrs. Alvarez heard her and began to cry.
That afternoon, Nora found the yellow blanket she had sent Margaret Walsh.
It was folded inside a trash bag at the back of Gwen’s storage closet, discovered by police and returned with other evidence. Gwen had never washed it. Never delivered it. Never even removed the card Nora had tucked inside.
For chilly mornings. Love, Nora.
Nora sat on the couch holding it for a long time.
Margaret had liked yellow.
Liam had never known.
Or maybe he had never asked.
Later, Nora called North Bay Residence.
When Margaret came to the phone, her voice was faint.
“Nora?”
“Hi, Margaret.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Gwen said you were mad at us.”
Nora swallowed.
“No. I’m not mad at you.”
“Did Liam behave?”
The question was so innocent it hurt.
Nora looked toward the balcony.
“No,” she said softly. “But he’s learning what that costs.”
Margaret sighed.
“He was always easy to lead when he was scared.”
Nora closed her eyes.
May you like
There it was.
The whole tragedy in one sentence.
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