I Walked Away Seven Years Too Late But Right on Time novel Chapter 111

Sophie changed her shoes and noticed her mother stepping out of the bedroom. Sarah looked pale, her expression tight with anxiety.

"Mom, are you still feeling unwell?" Sophie asked softly.

"No," Sarah replied, her voice slightly hoarse. "I might just be a bit tired. Did Gavin drop you off at the door?"

"Yeah. He saw how late it was, so he didn't come in. He left as soon as I unlocked the door."

"It's late. Wash up and get some sleep."

Sophie murmured an agreement and headed to the bathroom. Just as she turned on the faucet, she heard the click of the deadbolt. Poking her head out, she saw Sarah peeking into the hallway before swiftly shutting and locking the door.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Sophie asked, her hands still dripping wet.

"It might have been the neighbor's door. I must have misheard."

Seeing her daughter's lingering concern, Sarah knew she had overreacted. "When I came back today, I heard someone in the complex got burgled. It just put me on edge."

Sophie walked over to comfort her. "The security here is great, Mom. That's a super rare occurrence. If you're worried, we can install a keypad lock. It'll be safer."

"Okay. I'll call someone to install it tomorrow," Sarah agreed instantly, not even asking about the cost for the first time.

Back in her room, Sarah pulled the bank card Harold Harper had left from her nightstand. The thin piece of plastic seemed to burn her palm.

Earlier that evening, she had just returned from Jason Jenkins's house. The moment she unlocked her door, Harold had ambushed her from the stairwell. She had bitten her tongue to swallow her scream.

Before she could slam the door shut, Harold wedged his foot in the frame and shoved his way inside.

She had ordered him to get the hell out, but he insisted on waiting for Sophie.

He had sat on the sofa without a hint of restraint, scanning the living room. The apartment lacked expensive decor, but it was spotless and elegantly simple.

"You're still as neat as ever."

Back in high school, Sarah's desk had been the cleanest in the class. The first thing she did every morning was wipe down her desk, and she would always clean his too.

Perhaps it was his age, but Harold had been obsessively nostalgic lately. His daily schedule required his assistant's constant reminders, yet events from thirty years ago remained vividly etched in his mind.

Memory was a funny thing. The past they thought had faded was merely buried, rushing to the surface the moment a crack appeared.

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