99

KATHERINE

The first letter from Seline sat untouched on my dresser for most of the day, I’d found it slipped under my door early that morning, a small white envelope with my name scribbled hastily on the front. The neatness of the writing felt strange, considering the thing between us lately. I had half-expected her to confront me in person, not leave a letter like we were still playing at some civilized interaction.

For hours, I had avoided it. I couldn’t imagine what Seline wanted to say, and frankly, I didn’t care. After everything that had happened between us—her glares, her confrontations, the insults—I had no desire to entertain any more of her mind games.

So I let the letter sit, ignored, while I busied myself with other things.

By evening, I had all but forgotten about it until a second letter appeared, this one slid under the door with more urgency. It caught my attention immediately, mostly because of the hour. It was late—too late for Seline to still be up to whatever it