Then, at 1:17 p.m., the front door opened. Julia’s breath caught. A woman stepped inside—not Evelyn, not a nurse in scrubs, not anyone Julia recognized. She wore a fitted dark jacket and carried a tote bag that looked heavier than it should’ve been. She didn’t hesitate the way strangers did. She moved like she knew where things were.
Marcus turned toward her and—God, it was small, but it was there—his face changed. A smile. Not polite. Not tired. Real. The woman crossed the living room and touched his shoulder lightly, just once, like a signal. Marcus nodded, watching her hands more than her face. She crouched by the tote and pulled something out.