VIVIAN

I noticed it first thing in the morning. He was the same, but… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The conversation was light. Friendly. Perfectly normal, if you were to look at the interaction from the outside in.

Jesse made me breakfast. Eggs Benedict with a side of hashbrowns and freshly squeezed orange juice. He moved about the space with confidnce, and handled his utensils with care and precision.

“You’re good with your hands,” I said suggestively, eyeing the way he chopped up bits of potato.

“Thank you.” His voice lacked any trace of warmth. I thought maybe I misheard him over the rush of the...