Chapter 6: The Bills Came Due

A week after Chloe’s wedding, a courier delivered a registered letter.

Rick signed for it, complaining that the management company was making a big deal out of nothing.

But the moment he opened the envelope, his voice cut off.

The letter was perfectly clear.

The primary leaseholder, Rowan Pierce, had submitted a formal notice of non-renewal.

The current lease would expire in fifty-three days.

All residents were required to vacate the property by the termination date.

Rick read the letter twice.

Then a third time.

Diane walked over with a cup of coffee.

“What is it?”

He handed her the papers.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she frowned.

“She can’t do that.”

“Apparently, she already did.”

Noah, who had come over that morning for the first time since the wedding, took the letter from her.

His eyes moved quickly across the page.

His face changed.

“She sent this to a lawyer.”

Diane snatched the papers back.

“For a lease renewal? What does she need a lawyer for?”

No one answered.

The silence in the kitchen grew heavier.

Finally, Rick pulled out his phone.

“I’ll call her.”

He dialed my number.

The automated message immediately informed him that the number was no longer in service.

He tried again.

Same result.

Diane stared at him.

“Call one of her friends.”

“Which one?”

That question stopped her.

For years, I had been the one who remembered everyone else’s schedules, birthdays, appointments, and phone numbers.

But none of them could name a single close friend of mine.

Not because I didn’t have any.

Because they had never bothered to ask.

Noah slowly lowered his gaze.

“She changed her number.”

Diane looked at him sharply.

“What?”

“Her old number is disconnected.”

“Then find her.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m trying.”

That was when Diane’s phone began to ring.

She glanced at the screen.

The electric company.

She answered with an irritated sigh.

“Yes?”

The irritation disappeared from her face within seconds.

“What do you mean the account was closed?”

Rick looked up.

Diane listened for another moment, then slowly lowered the phone.

“Rowan canceled the electricity transfer.”

“What?” Rick barked.

“The account was in her name. They’re giving us forty-eight hours to open a new one.”

Noah rubbed a hand over his face.

Then Rick’s phone buzzed.

He checked the screen.

Another email.

His expression darkened.

“The internet account too.”

Diane stared at him.

“And the water bill?”

He opened another message.

His face went still.

“Canceled.”

For the first time, panic began to show.

The house had always worked.

The lights turned on.

The water ran.

The bills were paid.

The groceries appeared.

The repairs got scheduled.

No one had ever stopped to ask who made all of it happen.

Now, suddenly, they knew.

“She planned this,” Noah said quietly.

Diane turned toward him.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No.” His voice was flat. “She planned all of it.”

He looked down at the non-renewal notice.

“She knew exactly what she was doing when she left.”

Rick slammed his palm against the kitchen counter.

“Over a stupid wedding?”

Noah looked at him.

“It wasn’t just the wedding.”

Rick gave a humorless laugh.

“Oh, please. She’ll come back once she cools down.”

Noah didn’t answer.

Because for the first time since I had disappeared, he wasn't sure I would.

...

Two time zones away, I was standing outside a small apartment building beneath the bright Arizona sun.

Tucson was hotter than I expected.

The air smelled like dust, warm pavement, and something unfamiliar.

Something new.

I held a set of keys in my palm.

My new apartment wasn't impressive.

It was small.

One bedroom.

A narrow balcony.

An old kitchen with cabinets that needed repainting.

But every inch of it belonged to my future.

No one else’s.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The apartment was almost empty except for a mattress, two boxes, and a folding chair.

I placed my suitcase on the floor.

For a moment, I stood completely still.

No voices calling my name.

No one asking me to fix something.

No one telling me to be understanding.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

An email notification.

My lawyer.

I opened it.

Subject: Account Protection and Financial Review.

The message was short.

The fourteen-thousand-dollar transfer from the joint wedding account had been documented.

The unauthorized charges connected to my credit card had also been preserved.

And there was one more detail.

My lawyer had discovered that Noah had attempted to access another savings account that was solely under my name.

He hadn't succeeded.

But he had tried.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Then I slowly set the phone down.

So that was the answer.

They hadn't simply expected me to forgive them.

They had expected me to keep paying.

A small laugh escaped me.

It was quiet.

Almost sad.

But not because I missed them.

I walked to the balcony and looked out at the unfamiliar city stretching beneath the afternoon sun.

Then I opened my laptop.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't opening a spreadsheet to organize someone else's future.

I created a new folder.

And named it:

ROWAN.