Page 66 of Bound to the Marak

She reached Alice’s door and paused, her knuckles hovering. What was she even doing? Lying. Inventing. Pretending to still belong here.

She knocked.

It took only seconds before the door creaked open.

Alice blinked at her from behind thick glasses. Her face went pale.

“Leonie?”

“Hi,” she said, offering a small, uncertain smile.

Alice’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh myGod. Leonie—where the hell have you been?”

The older woman reached out without waiting, pulling Leonie into a hug that smelled of lavender fabric softener and boiled potatoes. It was grounding. Human. And Leonie had to close her eyes to keep from falling apart.

“I thought you weredead,” Alice said shakily. “Theydeclared you missing.You vanished—your flat was searched, everything?—”

“I know,” Leonie interrupted gently, drawing back. Her throat was tight, but she forced the words out. “It was… sudden. An emergency. I had to go to Australia. My grandmother—she got very ill. I needed to care for her.”

Alice’s face twisted in disbelief. “Forthree months? Without calling anyone? No email?”

Leonie winced. “It was rural. Remote. And things happened so fast—I know it sounds bad. I’m sorry. I really am.”

It wasn’t a lie that hurt—it was the truth that she couldn’t tell.

“If you’re in some sort of trouble,” Alice said, voice lowering. “I can help you. I won’t tell anyone.”

Leonie’s heart twisted. These people—ordinary and flawed—had still looked for her. Hoped for her. Cared.

“No trouble,” she lied with a smile. “Just bad timing and bad luck.”

Alice’s frown didn’t leave, but she nodded slowly. “Well. You gave us all a scare.”

Leonie took a breath. “Would it be alright if I used your computer?”

A pause.

Then, a gesture toward the small kitchen table. “Same password as before. Just open the fox thing.”

Leonie sat down at the familiar battered laptop. The keys clacked beneath her fingers as she logged in to her social media accounts. The pages loaded slowly, but when they did, her breath hitched.

Notifications.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Messages on every platform. Friends. Coworkers. Uni mates she hadn’t spoken to in years. People asking where she’d gone. If she was okay. If she was alive.

We’re worried about you.

Please come back.

Have you seen Alfie?

Her eyes stung. She scrolled quickly, heart racing. So many people. And she hadn’t been able to reach out to a single one.

Not then.

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