THE NOTE
1001 Words
The next morning, Emily woke up with a start.
The blanket had slipped halfway off the couch sometime in the night and a dull crick pulsated in her neck. She winced as she slowly sat up, blinking at the soft morning light trickling in through the curtains.
Then she remembered where she was.
Masons room.
Her eyes shot toward the bed instinctively.
Empty.
She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding and relaxed a bit. Still tense from nerves, she sat with the blanket in her lap after folding it neatly. It was like walking a tightrope to share a room with him; every step was dangerous, every breath was too loud.
The door creaked open.
She jerked upright as Mason walked in, looking as polished as ever. Freshly styled hair. Crisp black jacket. That usual glower that made him look like he hadn’t slept in a week—though she guessed he probably hadn’t.
He barely glanced at her.
He muttered, "You're up," and brushed past her on his way to his closet. Her voice was too small, "G-good morning."
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he dug through a drawer, grabbed a black comb and headed to the mirror.
Emily made an effort to avoid looking. Her gaze remained focused on her lap, suddenly drawn to the blanket's stitching. It was too quiet, though. Too quiet.
She cleared her throat. "Well, how was your sleep?"
He paused halfway through pulling the shirt over his head. “Do you really want the answer to that?”
She bit her lip, “…No.”
He then turned around, “Good.”
With swift, precise motions, he completed his outfit and put on his shoes, “In half an hour, we have a schedule, be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
"Okay."
Reaching for the door handle, he paused.
He continued to face her, but his voice became rougher and lower by an octave, “Did you sleep well last night?” he started.
She blinked gripping the blanket tightly.
“Yes, I appreciate you letting me stay.”
A pause.
He gave one nod, then he walked out, closing the door.
The tension was less obvious downstairs. As he flipped through a fashion magazine, Jackson was already stuffing his face with jam and toast and humming a cheerful tune. As they arrived together, Luke took a calm sip of his coffee while discreetly glancing between Emily and Mason.
With a tense smile, Emily welcomed them and hurried over to the kitchen counter. A few seconds later, Mason trailed in, looking more rigid than normal, as though his spine was objecting to the awkward silence that had grown between them since the previous evening.
“Good morning!” Jackson said, beaming. “I dreamt we all got matching leopard jackets and debuted as a jungle concept band. It was awesome.”
”Emily laughed quietly, "That sounds crazy."
“You have no idea,” he said with a dramatic shiver, then resumed chewing.
Mason sat silently, his arms folded, and his eyes narrowed not at Jackson's story, but rather, at Emily's constant fidgeting with her spoon as if it were a live grenade.
Luke put his cup down. He asked her, "Did you sleep well?"
Emily’s eyes flicked up, “Yes! I mean… mostly.”
“I heard someone talking around two a.m. Thought it was ghosts or something,” Jackson added with a mouthful of toast.
Mason tensed up.
Emily nearly choked on her tea.
Luke raised a brow but didn’t push it, “We’ve all been tired lately,” he said gently.
“True,” Jackson nodded. “And now with all those reporters camping outside, it’s even worse. One of them tried to interview my dog-walker yesterday.”
“Do you have a dog?” Emily asked looking up.
“No,” he sighed, “Which made it even weirder.”
They all burst out laughing.
Mason finally spoke, “We need to be more careful. One more leak and things could spiral.”
Emily winced. She sensed that the words were as much for her as they were for the others, even though he wasn't looking at her.
Luke set his cup down with a quiet clink, “Do you think the leak came from inside?”
A pause.
Mason looked up, “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything,” Luke said calmly, “Just… wondering how photos of you two in the hospital got out.”
Emily’s fingers clenched around her mug.
Jackson looked up from his magazine, now finally catching the undertones, “That is so true! What if there’s someone undercover.”
“They weren’t clear,” Mason snapped. “Could’ve been anywhere.”
“But they weren’t,” Jackson said softly.
Like a curtain, silence fell. Emily suddenly stood up, "I'm going to wash up." Before anyone could stop her, she rushed out.
Jackson blinked, "What's happening?"
Mason's jaw tightened. "Nothing, drop it…will you?”
Heart thumping, Emily pushed her back against the bathroom door upstairs and shut it behind her. Her reflection appeared worn at the edges, exhausted. She felt as though she was losing control of a secret that she had barely managed to keep, and everything had changed so swiftly. Something fell out of her pocket as she reached for her hoodie to change. A piece of folded paper. With a frown, she opened it. Her gaze expanded. She didn't own it. It was a delicately scripted note.
“Does your heart hurt because of him? Or because you’re pretending it shouldn’t?”
Her hands trembled. The words blurred for a second as her eyes stung.
Did someone see something? Was it Mason? No. His handwriting was sharper.
“Does your heart hurt because of him? Or because you’re pretending it shouldn’t?”
She read it again. Then again.
Her pulse was erratic.
And then… a knock came at the bathroom door.
Soft.
Slow.
And unmistakably
Mason
- Writer
