book.
At eleven, I switched off the bedside lamp.
I did not call Daniel.
I did not send a message asking when he would return.
I did not check whether he had read anything I sent.
I simply went to sleep.
I woke once during the night, heard no sound from the garage, and rolled over.
Then I went back to sleep.
That was the moment something changed.
Not when Daniel left.
Not when he failed to come home.
Not even when I imagined him sitting in a restaurant with
