“I’m not saying that,” she snapped, then softened, because snapping felt wrong. “I’m saying things are off. Stuff is moved. There are marks. And you’re alone here while I’m gone.” Marcus finally looked at her fully, his expression tired—tired enough to be convincing.
“Nothing is happening,” he said. “Nobody is breaking in. And if you keep feeding this, you’re going to scare yourself into seeing ghosts.” Julie’s pulse climbed anyway. “So you’re telling me I’m imagining it.” Marcus’s voice stayed firm. “I’m telling you you’re exhausted. Your brain is looking for something to blame.”