A week passed without fanfare.
No dramatic shift in the weather. No visible crack in the walls of the small apartment Chloe, Bella and Rachel stayed. No announcement from the universe that things were finally getting better or worse. It was just time moving quietly, gently, and somehow still leaving bruises where it touched.
But if anyone paid close attention to Bella, they would notice the way her eyes lingered on the window a second too long every morning for the past two days.
The way her she kept sitting in the living room as though waiting for someone to show up. Or the way she rolled her shoulders like she was shaking off invisible weight.
For six days straight, folded notes had appeared like clockwork.
If it wasn't a delivery person, sending notes and flowers, it'd be slid under the door or tucked in the flower pot by the balcony or even left on top of her worn-out sandals.
