I slept in short bursts.
I forgot to eat.
People brought food to my parents' house.
I couldn't touch it.
Flowers filled the rooms.
Cards covered the tables.
Everyone spoke softly.
Ryan stayed close.
He held my hand.
He brought me water.
He told people I needed rest.
He looked like the perfect grieving husband.
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to.
Because the alternative was unbearable.
Then, exactly seven days after Claire's death, my phone rang.
It was Megan.
Claire's best friend.
Her coworker.
The person Claire trusted more than almost anyone.
Her voice sounded strange.
“Alice, I need you to come to Claire's office.”
“Why?”
“There's something she left for you.”
“What?”
“A phone.”
My heart started beating faster.
“And a letter.”
I froze.
“What kind of letter?”
Megan's voice dropped.
“Just come.”
The Phone
I arrived at Claire's office less than an hour later.
Megan was waiting in a small conference room.