“Nobody’s back there,” Leo said. But his voice cracked.
“Turn around,” she whispered.
“Trust me.”
He tried. The car reversed five feet, then ten. The wall stayed. The trees on either side leaned inward, branches scraping the doors like fingernails.
The door opened. Inside, a woman who looked exactly like Mara — but older, and smiling too wide — said, “You took the wrong turn home.”
Mara didn’t believe in shortcuts. But her boyfriend, Leo, did.
And she never actually left.