ivyroxe
Four years.
That's how long Lilith has had to move on.
And she has.
Mostly.
She has a career she's damn good at, a black cat with absolutely no concept of personal space, a best friend who knows far too much, and an infuriatingly competent colleague who seems determined to take her job.
Her life is fine.
Until a missed call appears on her phone at 2:13 a.m.
One missed call.
One voicemail.
Forty-seven seconds.
Lil doesn't need to listen to it.
She already knows what they'll say.
"I'm sorry."
"It wasn't my fault."
"You made me do it."
Four years should be long enough to bury the past.
Apparently, it isn't.