PREVIEW

... he clock echoed in the quiet house, a sound that had grown louder and louder with each passing moment.

My hands, rough and aged from years of work, trembled as they clutched the edges of my shawl.

I sat by the window, staring out into the dark, rain-soaked streets, the storm casting ghastly reflections on the glass.

Where was he?

It was past midnight, and Noah still hadn't come home.

I had tried calling the group of boys I'd seen him with in the past, my v ...

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