My body shook as I pressed myself deeper into the corner, trying to disappear. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel the weight of his presence pulling at the frayed ends of everything I’d tried so hard to hold together these past few months.

“Sit down,” I heard Aunt Mary say tightly. “And wait for the cops if you want. You’re not getting anything out of me.”

“Please.” His voice softened, pleading now. “Tell her I’m here. Just tell her I’m here. That’s all I’m asking.”

A beat of silence followed.

I imagined Aunt Mary standing tall at the counter, arms folded over her apron, chin lifted.

But I also imagined Blake—soaked from the rain, maybe, unshaven, wild-eyed, trembling with months of longing.

I could see it without seeing it. The picture painted itself in perfect detail inside my mind. Him standing there, dripping on the tile, heart in his hands.

Everything in me screamed to move—to run, to escape, or to throw myself into his waiting arms. But I stayed rooted to the spot, my hands still pressed against my mouth.

“Please,” he said again, and I could hear the frustration bleeding into his words. “I just need to see her.”

My chest felt like it was splitting open. A few minutes passed in this unbearable purgatory—me holding my breath in the back, him pacing in the front, her guarding the space between.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

Run to the front. Scream at him to leave. Beg him to stay. Collapse in a heap of raw emotions.

I wanted to do it all, but my body wouldn’t listen.

Not until I heard Aunt Mary again. “Yes. I need someone removed. He’s refusing to leave the premises.”

Slowly, I pushed myself up, using the shelf in front of me as support, my legs trembling as if they were made of jelly.

“Four months,” Blake said, his voice rough. “Four months of knocking on every house in San Francisco listed under the name Mary. You know how many Marys are in those address books? I’ll tell you. 3,604, that’s how many. Each one was a dead end. Each door, a rejection. Every single Mary was a possibility, a hope that flickered and died before I even made it to the next damn house. And now I’m here. I can’t just leave now. Not without seeing her. Not when I’m this close.”

I bit down on a whimper. My knees buckled, and I slid down again, my fingers barely clinging to the shelf. The air felt too thick, my chest too tight.

“You can save it for the police,” she said, her voice clipped.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my forehead against the door, my breath uneven.

And then I waited.

For what, I didn’t know.