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The laptop screen went dark, and for what felt like forever, the only noise filling Ethan's bedroom was the soft, steady hum of the heater pushing warm air against the frost coating the window panes. Outside, the snow tapped gently on the glass, almost like it was trying to be polite while the chaos inside the room seemed ready to explode.
I found myself sitting on the edge of Ethan's bed, knees pressed tightly together to the point that my thighs throbbed, staring at the dark screen as if hoping it would suddenly spring back to life and reveal that this was all some kind of elaborate joke.
Keith killed Joanne...his own wife. The mother of his son.
My heart was racing, doing its usual frantic flutter when everything felt overwhelmingly real, and I couldn't shake the thought that kept echoing in my mind: My mom was with Keith? Before Joanne died? They lied to us saying they met last year when they've been together the whole time?
