One evening, as Debbie was preparing for bed, her phone buzzed. She hesitated, her heart racing. It was a message—from Pasco.
She stared at the screen, her emotions a whirlwind of anticipation, anger, and fear.
Hey, Debbie. I've been meaning to reach out…Her breath caught in her throat. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room, to protect herself from whatever half-hearted excuse he had to offer. But another part of her—a quieter, more vulnerable part—wanted answers.
After a long pause, she set the phone down without replying.
For once, she would let him wait.
Debbie crawled into bed, her heart still racing. She had come too far to let Pasco's words dictate her healing. Tomorrow would come, and with it, her choice on whether to reopen the door he had closed so carelessly.