“We’ll cooperate,” I said.
After Lena left, Maya stared at the closed door.
“You’re angry.”
“I am.”
“At me?”
I turned toward her.
“No.”
“You look like you want to break something.”
“I want to understand how I missed this.”
Maya gave a tired, humorless smile.
“You missed it because they were kind when you were watching.”
That sentence stayed with me all day.
By late afternoon, building management had changed the locks. Daniel arranged for a private home-care nurse to begin the morning Maya was discharged. I ordered groceries, formula, medications, and a second space heater.
I also booked a small furnished apartment two floors above ours for two weeks.
Maya was surprised.
“Why do we need another apartment?”
“So the locks can be changed, the cameras checked, and the apartment cleaned before you go back.”
“You think they’ll come home.”
“I know they will.”
At 5:40 p.m., my mother sent a voice message.
