Seven Years of Torment

Midnight had long come and gone when Evelyn finally dragged her exhausted body home. I sat alone on the living room sofa, my spirits at rock bottom. Seeing my state, she said nothing, simply thrust her phone into my hand. “You can check,” she said, her voice calm. “The password is still your birthday.” With that, she turned and walked into the bathroom, the sound of rushing water filling the silence.

I stared at the phone, a bitter smile playing on my lips. What good would checking do?