He nodded, but his eyes were suspicious.
“Hey, you haven’t changed your card recently, have you? The PIN or anything?”
Kiana took the milk out of the bag and put it in the fridge.
“No. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering. Maybe you should, for security.”
“I don’t see the point. Everything’s fine with mine.”
He paused, then stood up and left the kitchen.
Kiana heard him pacing around the apartment, opening drawers, closing them, then silence again.
In the evening, he went out, saying he needed to meet a friend to discuss work issues.
Kiana didn’t ask any questions, just nodded and wished him a good night.
She was finally alone.
She sat by the living room window with a cup of tea and watched the street.
The streetlights had come on, casting yellow patches on the pavement.
The wind chased fallen leaves across the sidewalk.
It was beautiful, really.
Fall had always been her favorite time of year.
Kiana thought of Grandmother Ruby.
She had a gift for finding beauty in simple things—a cup of tea with honey, an old book with yellowed pages, the evening stillness on the back porch.
She used to say,
“Kiki, remember this. People come and go, but you stay with yourself. So take care of yourself and don’t let anyone stomp on what’s inside.”
Back then, Kiana nodded without truly understanding.
Now, she understood perfectly.
Darius returned late, around eleven.
He smelled of cigarettes and cold air, went to the bathroom, washed up, and went to bed silently.
Kiana lay down too, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and closed her eyes.
Everything inside her was prepared, tight like a bowstring before release.
All she had to do was wait.
Wait for them to take the first step—the final step, the one after which there would be no turning back.
Kiana smiled faintly in the darkness.
She wondered what they would feel when they realized the truth.
Fear, anger, shame.
Probably anger.
Shame was for people with a conscience.
