"Mr. Temple."


    Peter and Samuel stood by the entrance, their striking looks drawing stares and whispers from passersby.


    "Still calling him Mr. Temple?" Samuel teased. "Come on, Hannah, you''re my cousin. You should call him Uncle Peter, just like I do." He grinned. "And I just realized, you''re actually a few months older than me. If things had been different, I could have called you little sister. Then I wouldn''t be the youngest anymore."


    Hannah paused, looking at Peter. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words "Uncle Peter" felt foreign on her tongue, impossible to say. She had never really had a family, never had the chance to learn those names. Even with the Rosenbergs, she had only ever called them by their formal titles. The rest of the family had never epted her, and she was rarely included in their gatherings.


    "It''s okay," Peter said gently, seeing her difort. "It will take time. You can get used to it after youe home."


    "He''s right,” Samuel added with an encouraging smile. "Once you''re home, I''ll introduce you to everyone. You can just copy whatever I call them." He nced around. "It''s past eight. Where''s Lionel? You don''t think he''s going to bail, do you?"


    Hannah looked around as well, a frown creasing her forehead. A familiar sense of irritation began to build. She had thought today would finally be the day. To think that Lionel had known all along that the divorce was never filed, that he had just been letting her count down the days, making a fool of her. The thought made her despise him even more.


    "Why don''t you give him a call?" Samuel suggested. "If he''s noting, we''ll just call a press conference right now. No more ying nice."


    Hannah pulled out her phone, hesitating. Peter had made the threat, and she had reinforced it. She thought Lionel would have understood the gravity of the situation. But now...


    After a moment of deliberation, she decided to call him onest time. She unblocked his number and stared at the familiar digits before finally pressing the call button. After what felt like an eternity, he answered.


    "Lionel, it''s eight o''clock. I''m at the courthouse. Are youing or not?" she asked, surprised by the tremor in her own voice. She struggled to keep it steady.


    "Hannah, are you sure you want to do this?"


    His voice was rough, as if he hadn''t slept. He was sitting on the sofa in the dark, the room filled with the stale smell of cigarette smoke. An ashtray on the table overflowed with cigarette butts. A single stiver of light cut through the drawn curtains, illuminating the mess.


    Apie flowed with


    "You were the one who wanted to marry me, Hannah," he continued, his voice raspy and usatory. "You did what you did just to be with me, and I never held it against you. And now you''re throwing half away because of Sandra?"


    Hannah took a deep, steadying breath. "It is because of her, but it''s more because


    of you. You know how you''ve treated me these past three years. There''s no point


    in torturing each other anymore. Juste."