Harrison’s phone screen glowed between us.
The anonymous message sat there, cold and cutting, and neither of us moved for a long moment. The air in the study felt thick. I could still feel the warmth of him on my skin, the weight of what we had just shared still present in the room, and then those words dismantling all of it.
“Who sent this?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” I turned to face him fully. “What truth? What are they talking about?”
Harrison set the phone face-down on the desk. He moved to the window, hands clasped at his back, and looked out at the dark gardens below. The posture I recognised — the one that meant he was deciding how much to give.
“Harrison.”
“Not now please.” His voice was flat, the warmth from minutes ago completely gone.
“Th
