The first page read: “Day 47 of watching her. She still doesn’t know I’m here.”
She found the notebook behind the loose brick in the fireplace of the rented country house — a place her husband, Mark, had insisted on. “No signal, no distractions,” he’d said, kissing her forehead. “Just us.”
Then the final entry, dated last week: “She found the notebook. Good. Now she knows she’s never alone.” the secrets you keep tracy lorraine vk
Lena had always thought of secrets as things you buried. But the truth was simpler and worse: secrets buried you.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Lena looked up at the ceiling, heart hammering. Mark was still at the village shop. The house was supposed to be empty.
But the notebook wasn’t hers.
The Secrets You Keep (A short story)