I used to think silence meant peace. That if the world stopped shouting, I could finally breathe. But lately, silence has been louder than any argument. Louder than Michelle’s lies, or Edward’s fake concern. Louder than Emily’s refusal to meet my eyes.

Today, the silence screamed again.

I sat in the library room—Edward’s precious little sanctuary, where every book was neatly arranged by genre, then by color. A man who fakes emotions but alphabetizes pain. I was supposed to be here just to pass the time. Pretend I still cared about being in this house. But today, I had a different reason.

Hidden in the back shelf, behind a row...