And muffled sounds, coming from the bedroom. An indistinct whisper. A stifled laugh. A laugh I’ve known for many years. Snezha.
An icy needle of fear pierces beneath my ribs.
“Mark?” I ask uncertainly, hoarsely. “Are you home?”
There is no answer. Only that whisper. My legs carry me to the slightly open bedroom door. My hand trembles as it pushes it.
And time stops.
The world narrows to the size of the bed with satin bedding I chose with love. On it—there they are. Mark. The man whose ring I wear on my finger. And Snezha. My sister. The girl we’ve shared everything with since childhood: from candies to the most intimate secrets of adult life.