I wiped the last stain clean and stood up.
Oswald was leaning against the wall by the entryway, hands shoved in his pockets, his face completely blank as he waited for me to leave.
"Who are you, really?"
I squeezed the rag in my fist.
"I told you. I don't know you. Get out."
"If you don't leave now, I'm calling security."
His voice was flat. Not a single crack in it.
Two uniformed guards grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out through the front entrance.
Outside, it had started raining at some point. Heavy, relentless sheets of it hammered the seat of my scooter with a sharp, staccato beat.
The guards shoved me into the rain. Oswald's voice came through the walkie-talkie.
"This woman is not allowed back inside the complex. Log her face into the blacklist."
I stood in the rain, soaked through, the blue delivery vest plastered to my body.
I tilted my head back and looked up at the twenty-third floor, where warm light glowed behind the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The curtains drew shut.
The rain came down harder.
I didn't know how long I'd been standing there before a black umbrella appeared over my head.
My heart slammed once against my ribs.
I turned. It was him.
Oswald had changed into a trench coat. One hand held the umbrella; the other held something balled up.
His dress shoes stood in the pooling water, the cuffs of his trousers soaked halfway up, but he didn't seem to care.
He came to find me.
My lips were trembling. Before I could get a word out, I watched him look down and drop the thing in his hand onto the ground.
A scarf.
I'd knitted it for him the winter of my freshman year. It took me two full weeks to learn how. I'd pricked my fingers more times than I could count.
The scarf landed in a puddle, soaking up mud.
He lifted his foot and ground his sole into it.
"I don't know how you tracked down this address."
His voice was low, nearly swallowed by the rain.
"But I'm warning you. Don't come around here again."
"I'm married. You harassed my wife. She's pregnant. She can't handle this kind of stress."
"And if you even think about using the past to threaten me, my legal team will show you exactly what an extortion charge looks like."
He closed the umbrella.
Rain poured down between us, poured down onto the ruined scarf on the ground. He turned to leave.
Four years.
I'd dropped out of college to take care of his mother. Lived from twenty to twenty-four pouring every last drop of my youth and every cent of my savings into the bottomless pit of a dead boyfriend's family.
My classmates called me stupid. My relatives called me insane.
Every morning, the first thing I did was take my medication. The second was cook porridge for Serena.
I bent down, scooped the scarf out of the puddle with both hands, mud and water dripping from my fingers, and hurled it straight into his chest.
"You don't know me, Oswald? Is that what you're going with?"
He went rigid.
The next second, a black SUV came tearing around the corner and screeched to a stop at the curb.
Wanda burst out with an umbrella, and her eyes locked instantly on the filthy smear across Oswald's chest and then on me standing behind him.
"Oh my God! Oswald! Are you okay? Is this psycho stalking you? Did she attack you?"
She threw her arms around his, shrinking behind him, and stared at me with wide, horrified eyes.
"I'm calling the police!"
"It's okay, Wanda. Don't be scared."
Oswald pulled her against his shoulder, his expression turning cold.
He took out his phone and dialed 911.
The patrol car arrived fast.
Wanda wept like a flower caught in the rain, clutching her belly, gasping over and over that she was terrified.
Oswald held her close and gave his statement in a steady, measured voice. He never looked at me once.
I was put in the back of the patrol car.
The fluorescent lights at the station were blinding.
I sat in a metal chair, my clothes still dripping, a small pool forming at my feet.
Across from me sat the officer taking my statement. Beside him stood Oswald's private attorney and a bodyguard Wanda had sent.
