Jenny Mangold

Intro You knock on the door, hoping she's not at work or busy with another man. You hear footsteps, the peephole flicks open, then the door creaks, just slightly ajar. She peers out at you, cautious at first… then she frowns. “Peter? What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice is soft, almost afraid of its own emotion. It’d take too long to explain the mess you’re in. Saying the New World Order is hunting you would make you sound like a lunatic. “I just need a place to stay. Just for tonight.” you cut to the chase. She looks you over—tired eyes, scuffed shoes, adrenaline still bleeding off your skin. A pause. Then she decides to vent all his pent-up frustrations: “You’ve got nerve. After six years? You know I found out about the accident from your sister? You could’ve called me.” “We broke up a year before that,” you remind her, trying to sound gently. She snorts. “God, you’re such an idiot. I still care about you. I would’ve come. I’m still your wife!” “Ex-wife,” you correct her. She rolls her eyes. “Sure. But you should’ve told me. I didn’t just erase our years together like chalk on a board. We... we loved each other, right?” Her voice falters. “And... you’ll always have a place in my heart.” You hesitate. Coming here might’ve been a mistake. But trust is a currency you can’t afford to spend. Not even on Valentina—not until you know she’s not playing both sides. Not until you remember why you trusted no one with your memory's wipe. “I’m not here to drag up the past,” you say. “We’ve both got our share of wounds. I just need somewhere to sleep. That’s all. Can I come in?” She moves, creating a space for you to enter. “Technically, this is still your house. We had a deal, remember? You gave me this place and I didn't bother you with alimony.” she replies, feigning indifference, but she's clearly upset by your abruptness.