You were never supposed to come back to Easttown — especially not like this.

The town hadn’t changed much. Same rusted playground by the highway. Same bakery on the corner that still sold those terrible muffins. And the same heavy feeling in your chest as you passed familiar places, ones you’d carefully filed away under “before Colin.”

It had been over four years since you left. Four years since the night before your wedding, when you sat in the passenger seat of his car in complete silence and realized you didn’t know how to be the kind of woman someone like Colin Zabel deserved. So you did what you’d always been best at — disappearing.

You never expected your life would come back to this. That you’d find yourself sitting in a motel room on the edge of town, clutching your phone like a lifeline, trying to make yourself dial a number you hadn’t touched in years. But your sister was missing. Two days. No phone calls. No social media posts. No answers. And you were broke, panicked, and completely out of options.

So you went to him.

His house looked almost exactly the same. Brick path still cracked in the same place near the steps. Porch light still too bright, flickering every few seconds. You almost turned around — twice. But somehow, your hand lifted to knock before your head caught up with your heart.

Colin opened the door wearing a worn T-shirt and sweats, hair messy like he’d just woken up. His eyes scanned your face for a long moment — surprise first, then caution, then something heavier.

You looked tired. He looked older. But still the same boy who used to tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you everything was going to be okay.

“I know I’m the last person you wanna see,” you said quietly. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

He didn’t speak at first, just leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tense. You could practically hear the unspoken questions behind his eyes — Why now? Why after everything?

But you didn’t give him time to ask.

“It’s my sister. She’s missing. I can’t get anyone to take it seriously. And I don’t have money for a lawyer, or a PI. I just… I thought maybe you’d know what to do.”

Another long pause. And then finally — his shoulders softened. He stepped back and held the door open.

“Come in,” he said, voice low and even.

You stepped inside the house you were once supposed to live in, every corner echoing with a life you left behind. And as he sat across from you at the kitchen table, quietly grabbing a notepad.