CHAPTER TWO
I stepped onto the porch, the worn wood creaking beneath my feet. It wasn’t a fancy mansion like the homes of parents who used the Catch-22 to climb the social ladder, but it was ours. The door groaned as I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The kitchen smelled faintly of detergent and tea. My mother stood at the sink, washing dishes, while my father sat at the table, his tea cup cradled in his hands. Five years had passed since I’d last seen them, yet they looked exactly the same.
“Oh, Shari! You’re home!” my mother exclaimed, her face lighting up as she hurried over to embrace me. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, as though she needed proof that I still existed.
“It’s been so long,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “How was the five-year program?”
I smiled at her, taking in the warmth of her familiar presence. “It was great. I enjoyed every moment of it.”
“Well, I’m proud my daughter had the chance to get out and see the world,” my father said, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Better than being cooped up in this small town.”
I hesitated before asking, “Did you hear about the nuclear fallout in Manhattan? It happened just a few days ago.”
They both stared at me, confused. My father shook his head. “A nuclear fallout? In Manhattan?”
Their confusion made my stomach churn. There had never been a war in history—at least, not in this history. My chest tightened as I realized what the man on the street had meant: you never know when time has changed, even if it’s right in front of you.
“Chloe stopped by earlier,” my mother said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I told her you were coming home. You should go see her—she’s been going through a lot lately.”
“I will,” I promised.
Chloe Mai had been my best friend since childhood. We did everything together—until I left for film school, that is.
After dropping my bag in my old room, I headed down the street to her house at the corner of the neighborhood. It had always been one of the liveliest homes, filled with laughter and noise. But now, as I knocked on the door, the house seemed quiet—almost lifeless.
The door creaked open, revealing Chloe in the doorway. She was dressed in shorts and a white tee, her face tired and pale.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“Well, that’s one way to greet a friend you haven’t seen in five years,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Her eyes widened in astonishment. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she threw her arms around me, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
“Come inside,” she said, pulling me in.
We settled in the living room, catching up on the years we’d missed. As she talked, I couldn’t shake the eerie quiet of the house. Her home had always been full of life, but now it felt like a hollow shell.
Eventually, she told me what had happened. Her father had died of heart disease the year after I left, and her mother had abandoned her, taking her siblings to be with another man.
The weight of her words settled on me like a stone. I wished I’d been there to support her.
As she carried her glass of water to the kitchen, I noticed something poking out from under the couch cushion: a syringe. My stomach sank. I stared at it, dreading what she might have been doing to herself.
When she returned, I acted like I hadn’t seen anything.
“Despite you being gone,” she said, her voice soft, “I made a friend. Her name’s Amber Rose. We met in school.”
I nodded, relieved she’d found some support, though a pang of jealousy hit me unexpectedly.
“I haven’t seen her in about a week,” Chloe continued. “I went to her house, but her dad said she’d gone missing. He even hired private investigators, but there’s no trace of her. It’s like she just vanished.”
Her words lingered, sending a chill through me. The thought crossed my mind—could Amber have been erased? But no, that wouldn’t make sense if Chloe still remembered her.
I reached across the table, taking Chloe’s hand in mine. “We’ll find her,” I promised. “Together.”
