home. As I crossed the parking lot, I noticed Daniel’s car outside a restaurant we rarely visited.
I almost kept walking.
Then I saw him through the window.
He was sitting at a table with a woman.
She had long, dark hair and wore a cream-colored jacket. Her hand rested on the table beside his, and she was smiling at him in a way that made something inside me tighten.
Daniel leaned forward.
He said something I couldn’t hear.
The woman laughed and touched his wrist.
He smiled.
It was
