KIEL'S POINT OF VIEW
I wasn't stupid.
I knew something was going on. I could feel it every time Odette came home later than usual, her boots carrying dirt from streets I knew weren't near us. Every time she said "work" and couldn't meet my eyes. Every time she hugged Dalle too tightly, as if bracing herself for something she hadn't told me.
I wasn't angry.
Not yet.
But suspicion has its own heartbeat, and lately, it was louder than mine.
So I did something I never thought I'd do.
I put a tracker under her car.
It sat hidden near the rear wheel, cloaked behind dust and shadow. I told myself it was for safety. For her and Dalle. But deep down, I was trying to find the part of her I felt slipping away.
And the map I watched that night didn't lie.
She hadn't gone to the studio.
She drove out past the city line. Past the factories. Near the old districts. Her dot had stopped at a warehouse for two hours. Then disappeared.
No movement. No signal. Just silence.
