Page 9 of Bewitched & Bewildered
Her coming home was supposed to be a short break, but it’s been a year, and she shows no sign of going back to Orono. I don’t know if it’s part of the rebellion—but it’s hard to rebel when there’s no one to stop you. She can stay here as long as she wants.
“No?” She stops in her tracks.
“No. Do you want to tell me where you were?”
“Out with a friend. That’s all.”
“What kind of friend?”
“Something tells me you already know.” She continues up the stairs. “I’m going to sleep. Try not to be too loud.”
“I’ll try.”
“Tell the others, too!”
I’m up now, even if I don’t want to be. I glance at my phone and realize I’ve only slept a few hours. Yet, my body is wired.
It’s time to start my day. There’s nothing else to do.
OZAN
This is where I’ll spend the next phase of my life. Although my new apartment is a fraction of the size of my last home, it has something the other didn’t.
Peace.
I’m ready to let go of what was.
My new apartment is above my shop and…it’s nice. The single room is rustic and different than where I lived with Vanessa.
It’s lonely here, but that’s what I need. To be alone again. To be me.
The floor is unpolished wood, and the walls are red brick. The apartment is a studio. My bed is already shoved off in a corner, with a room divider to create a facade of privacy. The only other room here is a small bathroom.
It’s big enough for me and me alone.
I glance at myself in the mirror. The lighting in the tiny bathroom is horrendous. It’s a great reminder that I have to shave soon. The gray streaks in the front tell a story of the stress I’ve been carrying.
There’s more gray these days, I swear.
I set down the last of my boxes. I didn’t bring much.
Starbrook is my home, the place I was raised, but now it’s my fresh start. I want it to feel that way—and I don’t want to bring anything that reminds me of Vanessa.
Although we have been separated for a year, the ink on our divorce papers is still fresh. I’m over her, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get over the betrayal. This apartment and the shop downstairs…
It feels like a good start to that.
Chapter 3
Juniper
“Tell me when to stop.”Laurel holds our late mother’s tarot deck, shuffling with expertise.
It’s a deck I know better than any other—we all do. It was our first divination tool. The cards are from the 70s, and they’re perfectly worn down. Years of use make them bendy enough to make shuffling a dream. I know the imagery by memory.
Laurel does, too.
I don’t trust my baby sister with many things, but this is one of them. Her intense eyes are glued to mine, and I know she’s taking this seriously.
