Chapter 6 — Edges
I stopped waiting for Noah in hallways.
Not as punishment.
As survival.
When he entered a room, I learned to step out of it with my hands full—
a glass of water, a stack of books, anything that made my leaving look accidental.
Marianne noticed.
Once, she caught me pausing at the bottom stair when Noah’s footsteps sounded above.
Her eyes softened.
“Evie,” she began.
I shook my head gently.
It wasn’t a no to her.
It was a no to the conversation that would try to stitch this back together too fast.
Summer stretched.
The house stayed bright, windows open, sunlight on the hardwood.
But the air felt thinner.
Like something essential had been removed.
Noah started coming home later.
Not every night.
Just enough to make the pattern.
Sometimes his shoes appeared by the door at 1 a.m.
Sometimes they didn’t.
His phone never lit up with my name.
I learned not to send messages.
It was worse to see “Read” with no reply.
One evening I found his jacket thrown over the couch.
A faint smell of smoke clung to it again—cigarettes, not fire.
I folded it neatly and placed it on the armrest.
When he came through, he saw it.
His eyes flicked to my hands.
Then away.
“Thanks,” he said.
Two syllables.
Carefully neutral.
I nodded once and went upstairs.
In my room, I took out the jade charm Marianne had kept for me since I was small.
A soft green oval on a worn cord.
My mother’s last gift, found in her jewelry box after she died.
When I held it, the world felt heavier and steadier at the same time.
I pressed it to my palm until the edge left a mark.
Then I put it back in the drawer.
I didn’t want Noah to see it.
Not because it was precious.
Because it was proof.
And proof, in this house, always became a weapon.
The first day of high school arrived like a closed door.
Uniforms. Schedules. New hallways.
I stared at Noah’s text on my screen—short and clean.
**At school, don’t talk to me.**
I read it twice.
Then I typed one word.
**Okay.**
I hit send.
Set my phone face down.
And told myself it didn’t hurt.
Outside, the streetlight flickered on, pale gold in the early evening.
On the pavement, my shadow stretched long.
Alone.