Frida
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of Stanley’s gentle snoring. I smile to myself, feeling a deep sense of warmth in my chest.
I remember the events of the previous night. Stanley told me what happened to Molly, but it seemed that he didn’t want to tell me the entire story.
I turn my head to look at him, taking in the sight of his peaceful expression as he slept. I slowly untangle myself from his embrace, careful not to wake him up. I make my way to the kitchen, start a pot of coffee and take a seat at the table, lost in thought.
The thought of not knowing the whole truth makes me uneasy, but at the same time, I want to stay patient.
I sit here and keep wondering about Stanley’s past and the things he had hinted at. What kind of bad things had he done? And how had they led
