“I’ll be there at seven tomorrow as usual.

I know I left a few minutes early today, but every room was clean before I stepped out, I made sure —” “Lianna,” he said gently, “I’m not here about your job.”

She stepped aside, uncertain, and let him see the small apartment: secondhand furniture, a portable crib beside the bed, tiny baby clothes drying on a metal rack near the heater, and on the kitchen table a nearly empty container of formula.

She saw him notice the container, and a look of deep embarrassment crossed her face.