Chapter 6: Nadia's Kitchen Table
Nadia opened the door before Amara knocked.
She looked at the suitcase.
At the coat.
At Amara's face.
She stepped back and held the door open and didn't ask a single question.
That was the thing about Nadia.
She had always known when questions were the wrong tool.
Amara set the suitcase down inside the door.
She sat at the kitchen table.
Nadia put the kettle on and sat across from her and waited.
"I left him," Amara said.
"Okay."
"Tonight.
An hour ago."
"Okay."
"There's more to it than that."
"I assumed."
Amara looked at her hands on the table.
They had stopped shaking.
She wasn't sure when.
"I need to stay here tonight," she said.
"Maybe a few nights.
I can't tell you everything yet.
But I need you to know that if anyone calls asking where I am — anyone, including people who say they're from the government — you haven't seen me."
Nadia poured the tea.
She set the mug in front of Amara.
She sat back down.
"Amara," she said.
"I have not seen you since your baby shower."
Something cracked open in Amara's chest.
She pressed her lips together.
"Thank you," she said.
"Don't thank me.
Drink the tea."
She drank the tea.
It was too hot and she didn't care.
"Can I ask one thing?" Nadia said.
"Yes."
"Are you safe?
Right now, tonight?"
Amara thought about Reyes's voice.
*Don't stop.
Keep moving.* She thought about the person inside his building who had received a call from Dante's lawyer.
"I think so," she said.
"I'm being careful."
"Good." Nadia stood up.
"The second bedroom has clean sheets.
The bathroom lock works.
I'm not going to ask you anything else tonight."
She started toward the hallway, then stopped.
"For what it's worth," Nadia said, without turning around.
"I've been waiting eight years for you to make this call."
She went to bed.
Amara sat at the kitchen table for a long time.
She took the manila envelope out of her coat and set it on the table in front of her.
She looked at it.
Thirty-one photographs.
One property deed.
One document with fourteen routing numbers.
The evidence of a life that had been built around her without her consent.
She thought about Dante standing at the foot of his stairs with a glass of water, calculating.
She thought about Selena's face when she heard the word *copies.*
She thought about the twenty-four-year-old woman who had believed a man when he said she would never have to wonder.
She picked up the envelope and held it in both hands.
Her daughter kicked.
"I know," Amara said.
"I'm working on it."
She put the envelope back in her coat.
She went to the second bedroom.
She lay down on top of the covers without undressing.
Her phone buzzed.
The new number.
Reyes.
*Meeting confirmed.
10 a.m.
Location to follow.
Sleep if you can.*
She set the phone on the nightstand.
She did not expect to sleep.
She was asleep in four minutes.
She woke at 3:17 a.m.
to a sound she couldn't identify — a car outside, maybe, or a door somewhere in the building.
She lay still and listened.
Nothing.
She reached for her phone.
One new message.
Not from Reyes.
From a number she had deleted eight months ago but still recognized.
Dante.
*I know where Nadia lives.
I've always known.
Come home and we'll talk.
This doesn't have to become something neither of us can stop.*
Amara stared at the screen.
She typed back one word.
May you like
*No.*
Then she blocked the number, set the phone face-down, and lay in the dark with her hand on her belly, waiting for morning.
