Increased surveillance
These escalating incidents led the police to increase surveillance around our home, a clear indication of how serious things had become. Patrol cars now made regular rounds, offering a small sense of security. “Your area is under close watch,” one officer assured me. Still, paranoia lingered—I jumped at every creak of the floorboards and flinched at the faintest noise outside. The flashing lights of the cruisers were both comforting and haunting, constant reminders that normalcy had slipped out of reach.
Increased Surveillance
A package arrives
One afternoon, a plain, unmarked package arrived on our doorstep. Inside was a small, locked journal that once belonged to Mark. The moment I held it, I sensed its importance—something about its weight and worn leather cover spoke of secrets long buried. My hands trembled as I searched through the packaging and found a tiny key, carefully hidden in the folds. Unlocking the journal, I opened the cover to pages filled with Mark’s handwriting—raw, intimate, and confessional. These entries were his last effort to reveal the truth he’d kept from me, a window into the hidden life that had now engulfed us.
A Package Arrives
