THE THINGS WE HIDE

THE THINGS WE HIDE

THE THINGS WE HIDE

A Dark Romance by Faith

Chapter 1 — The Stranger I Wasn't Supposed to Meet

Hindi dapat ako lumabas nang gabing iyon.

Kung sinunod ko lang ang sinabi ni Mama na umuwi agad pagkatapos ng school, hindi ko sana siya nakilala.

Hindi ko sana nalaman ang pangalan niya.

Hindi ko sana nalaman kung paano siya ngumiti kapag hindi niya napapansin na may nakatingin sa kanya.

At higit sa lahat, hindi ko sana natutunan na minsan, ang mga taong pinakagusto mong pagkatiwalaan ang siya ring may pinakamaraming bagay na itinatago.

Pero hindi ko pa alam ang lahat ng iyon noon.

Ang alam ko lang, pagod ako.

Pagod sa bagong school.

Pagod sa mga bagong mukha.

At pagod na pagod na akong magpanggap na okay lang ako sa lahat ng pagbabago.

“Text me when you're home.”

Binasa ko ulit ang message ni Mama habang naglalakad ako sa sidewalk.

Mama: Don't stay out too late, Mia.

Napabuntong-hininga ako.

“Five minutes lang naman.”

Hindi ko alam kung para sa kanya ba iyon o para sa sarili ko.

Tatlong linggo pa lang mula nang lumipat ako sa Blackwood Academy, pero parang tatlong buwan na ang lumipas.

Hindi naman masama ang school.

Maganda nga.

Malaki ang campus, maayos ang classrooms, at halos lahat ng teachers ay mababait. The school itself wasn't the problem.

It was me.

Or maybe the fact that I was trying too hard to pretend that starting over didn't bother me.

Sa dati kong school, alam ko kung saan ako pupunta kapag may vacant time. Alam ko kung sino ang tatawagan kapag may kailangan ako. Alam ko kung sinong teacher ang kailangang kausapin nang maayos at kung sino ang hindi dapat biruin kapag bad mood.

Dito, wala akong alam.

Sa first week pa lang, ilang beses na akong naligaw sa building.

Minsan, nakikipagkainan ako sa cafeteria na hindi ko alam kung saan uupo.

May mga pangalan akong kabisado pero mukha na hindi ko pa ma-associate.

At bawat araw, may bagong tanong.

Where are you from?

Bakit ka lumipat?

May boyfriend ka?

Anong section mo dati?

Simple questions.

Pero nakakapagod sumagot.

Especially when you don't want to explain the real reason.

Kaya nang yayain ako ni Lara na pumunta sa café malapit sa school pagkatapos ng klase, pumayag ako.

Hindi dahil gusto kong mag-party.

Hindi rin dahil gusto kong lumabas.

Gusto ko lang makaramdam na normal ang buhay ko.

Kahit isang gabi lang.

Pagdating ko sa café, nakita ko agad si Lara sa may bintana.

“Finally!”

“Sorry.”

“Twenty minutes late.”

“Traffic.”

“Walking ka lang.”

“Traffic sa utak ko.”

Tumawa siya.

“Ang drama.”

Umupo ako sa tapat niya.

“Pagod ako.”

“I can tell.”

“Thanks.”

“Compliment 'yon.”

“Hindi tunog compliment.”

Lara laughed.

She had been one of the first people who actually talked to me when I transferred.

Hindi kami agad naging close.

At first, casual lang.

She'd ask if I understood the assignment.

I'd lend her a pen.

She'd save me a seat.

I'd send her notes kapag absent siya.

Small things.

Eventually, naging comfortable na rin kami sa isa't isa.

She was the kind of person who could talk about absolutely anything without making the conversation feel forced.

And that night, I needed exactly that.

We talked for almost two hours.

About school.

About teachers.

About classmates.

About random things that didn't matter.

May isang teacher kaming parehong tingin ay secretly masungit kahit hindi naman.

May kaklase kaming dalawang linggo pa lang pero parang may sariling teleserye na ang buhay.

May boy sa kabilang section na palaging naka-sunglasses kahit gabi na.

“Maybe he thinks mysterious siya,” sabi ni Lara.

“Maybe he has a medical reason.”

“Defender ka?”

“I'm just saying.”

“Okay, lawyer.”

Tumawa ako.

At iyon ang gusto ko.

Walang seryosong tanong.

Walang tungkol sa pamilya.

Walang tungkol sa dahilan kung bakit ako lumipat.

Just us laughing about stupid things.

Around nine, tumayo na ako.

“Uuwi na ako.”

“Sure ka?”

“Yeah. Baka hanapin na ako.”

“Message mo ako.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Paglabas ko ng café, malamig na ang hangin.

I checked my phone.

9:17 p.m.

May missed call from Mama.

I immediately called back.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Pauwi na ako.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Binaba ko ang call.

Then it started raining.

At first, light rain lang.

Mga patak na halos hindi mo mapapansin.

I continued walking.

Then suddenly, parang binuhusan ako ng buong langit.

“Seriously?”

Tumakbo ako papunta sa waiting shed.

Wala akong payong.

Of course.

Pagdating ko roon, basa na ang sleeves ng uniform ko.

I sat down and stared at the road.

Walang jeep.

Walang taxi.

Walang halos tao.

“Great.”

I opened my phone.

12% battery.

“Mas great.”

I tried calling Mama again.

No answer.

I checked the road.

Nothing.

The rain became heavier.

I hugged my bag closer to me.

At that moment, I regretted leaving the café.

I should've stayed.

I should've waited for someone.

I should've listened to Mama.

But it was too late to undo anything.

I was about to put my phone away when someone suddenly ran toward the waiting shed.

“Damn.”

Napalingon ako.

Isang lalaki.

Basang-basa.

May hawak na itim na payong na halatang wala nang silbi dahil kalahati ng katawan niya ay basa.

Huminto siya sa harap ng shed.

Napatingin siya sa akin.

“May tao pala.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Obviously.”

He looked around the small waiting shed.

“Okay.”

Then he smiled.

“Deserved.”

Napangiti ako kahit ayaw ko.

“You're wet.”

He looked down at himself.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“Just stating facts.”

“Very helpful.”

“I'm trying.”

He laughed quietly.

Then he sat at the opposite end of the bench.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The rain filled the silence.

It was strangely comfortable.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit.

Maybe because we were strangers.

There was something easy about talking to someone who knew nothing about you.

No expectations.

No assumptions.

No history.

You didn't have to explain why you were quiet.

You didn't have to pretend to be okay.

You could just sit there.

After a few minutes, he looked at me.

“Waiting for someone?”

“Ride.”

“Same.”

“Your parents?”

He shook his head.

“Friend.”

I nodded.

“Yours?”

“My mom.”

“Strict?”

“Not really.”

I looked at him.

“Concerned.”

“Same thing.”

“No.”

He smiled.

“Fair.”

I looked at his uniform.

Different school.

At least, I thought so.

“You're not from around here?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He pointed toward the café.

“Was there.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looked at me.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I know.”

“Always?”

“Only when I'm bored.”

He laughed.

“Then I should probably keep talking.”

“Probably.”

He leaned back.

“I'm Ethan.”

“Mia.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

He looked outside.

“Bad night?”

I shrugged.

“Not really.”

“That's not a convincing answer.”

“Maybe I don't want to explain.”

He nodded.

“Fair.”

For some reason, that answer made me comfortable.

He didn't push.

Most people did.

They'd ask again.

Why?

What happened?

Are you okay?

Ethan didn't.

He just let the silence return.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

He seemed different from most guys I had met.

Hindi siya trying hard maging interesting.

Hindi rin siya trying hard maging mysterious.

He just seemed tired.

Parang may sariling mundo na hindi niya kailangang ipaliwanag sa iba.

“Do you always talk to strangers?” he asked.

“Hindi.”

“Then why are you talking to me?”

“Because you're here.”

He smiled.

“That's a terrible reason.”

“It's enough.”

He looked away.

For a moment, I noticed a small scar near his eyebrow.

Hindi ko alam kung saan galing.

I almost asked.

But I remembered that he didn't ask questions when I didn't want to answer.

So I didn't.

Instead, I asked,

“Do you like the rain?”

“No.”

“Then why aren't you somewhere dry?”

“Because I made a bad decision.”

I laughed.

“Same.”

He looked at me.

“You regret coming out?”

“A little.”

“Why did you?”

I shrugged.

“I wanted to get away.”

“From?”

“Everything.”

He didn't laugh.

He didn't ask what I meant.

He just nodded.

“Understandable.”

That answer caught me off guard.

“You understand?”

“More than you think.”

I looked at him.

But before I could ask what he meant, he looked outside again.

The conversation ended there.

For the moment.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

I looked down.

Low Battery: 5%

“Great.”

“Still no ride?”

“Nothing.”

He glanced at my phone.

“Call your mom before it dies.”

“I already did.”

“Call again.”

“Why?”

“Because it's late.”

I frowned.

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Only when people are about to make bad decisions.”

“I don't think I'm making a bad decision.”

“You're sitting alone in an empty waiting shed at almost ten at night during heavy rain.”

“Okay.”

I picked up my phone.

“Point taken.”

I called Mama again.

Still no answer.

“Maybe she's sleeping.”

“Probably.”

I handed the phone back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I looked at him.

“What's your friend doing?”

“Supposedly picking me up.”

“Supposedly?”

“He's terrible at being on time.”

“Then why wait?”

“Because I don't have another choice.”

I smiled.

“Fair.”

The rain didn't stop.

Ten minutes became twenty.

Twenty became forty.

Eventually, the café across the street closed.

The street became quieter.

Ethan checked his phone.

“My friend isn't answering.”

“Same.”

He looked at me.

“You want me to walk you home?”

I shook my head.

“No. It's okay.”

“It's late.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

“Okay.”

He stood.

“I'm going to find a ride.”

“Good luck.”

He looked at me.

“Thanks.”

He took two steps.

Then stopped.

“Actually…”

“What?”

“You shouldn't wait here alone.”

“I'll be okay.”

“Mia.”

It was strange hearing my name from him.

“Hmm?”

“I'm not trying to scare you.”

“Then what?”

He glanced toward the dark road.

“Just be careful.”

Then he walked away.

I watched him disappear into the rain.

For a few seconds, I thought about calling him back.

I didn't know why.

Maybe because the waiting shed suddenly felt emptier.

Maybe because the conversation had made the long wait less miserable.

Or maybe because there was something about him that made me curious.

I shook the thought away.

Stranger lang siya.

That's all.

I thought that was the end.

I was wrong.

Around midnight, I finally got a ride.

I reached home almost thirty minutes later.

The lights downstairs were still on.

I opened the door quietly.

“Mia?”

I froze.

Mama was sitting on the couch.

“Sorry.”

“Where have you been?”

“I told you I was going home.”

“It's almost one.”

“I know.”

She sighed.

“I'm not angry. I was worried.”

“Sorry.”

She stood and hugged me.

“Just don't do that again.”

“I won't.”

She pulled away and looked at me.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

“With Lara?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I nodded.

“Good night, Ma.”

“Good night.”

I went upstairs.

After I changed clothes, I sat on my bed.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

I looked at my phone.

No new messages.

For some reason, I thought about Ethan.

The stranger from the waiting shed.

I wondered if he got home safely.

I wondered if he found his friend.

I wondered if he always talked to strangers like that.

Then I laughed at myself.

“Why do I care?”

I didn't even know him.

I put my phone on the table.

Then I slept.

Monday morning.

I entered Room 204 with my hair still slightly damp.

Lara waved at me.

“Morning!”

“Morning.”

“Why do you look dead?”

“Didn't sleep well.”

“Why?”

“Nothing.”

She looked suspicious.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I sat down.

She continued talking about our assignment.

I listened half-heartedly.

My mind was somewhere else.

I was still thinking about the weekend.

Not Ethan.

Everything else.

The rain.

The late night.

The fact that I had broken one of Mama's rules.

I promised myself I wouldn't do that again.

Then I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Morning.”

I froze.

I knew that voice.

Slowly, I turned around.

And there he was.

The stranger from the waiting shed.

Dry.

Calm.

Wearing the same school uniform as everyone else.

For one second, his expression was just as surprised as mine.

Then it disappeared.

“Hi.”

I stared at him.

“You?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me?”

I looked at his name written on the attendance sheet.

Ethan Vale.

My stomach dropped.

“Ethan.”

He smiled faintly.

“That's my name.”

“You're from this school?”

“Apparently.”

I couldn't believe it.

Lara looked between us.

“You two know each other?”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Yes,” Ethan said at the same time.

We looked at each other.

He almost smiled.

Lara frowned.

“Okay…”

“Wait,” she said. “How do you know each other?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Ethan answered for me.

“We met outside.”

Lara looked at me.

“Outside?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Café.”

“Together?”

“No,” I said.

“Yes,” Ethan said.

I glared at him.

He looked amused.

“Not together,” he clarified.

“Okay…”

Lara still looked suspicious.

The teacher entered before she could ask anything else.

Everyone settled down.

I took out my notebook.

My hands were slightly cold.

I tried to focus on the lesson.

I couldn't.

Because the boy sitting behind me wasn't supposed to be here.

He was supposed to remain a stranger.

Someone I met once.

Someone I would probably never see again.

But now he was in my classroom.

Every day.

For the rest of the school year.

I felt someone lightly tap my desk.

I turned.

Ethan was holding a pen.

“You left this.”

I looked at it.

It was mine.

I must have dropped it.

“Thanks.”

He nodded.

Then whispered,

“Didn't expect to see you here.”

“Same.”

“You live nearby?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

“Good to know.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Nothing.”

Then he turned back.

I stared at the back of his head.

Something about him had changed.

Or maybe I had simply never seen him in this environment.

Here, he was different.

Quiet.

Closed off.

People avoided him.

And every now and then, someone would glance at him before quickly looking away.

The boy from the waiting shed had been easy to talk to.

This Ethan was different.

Almost unreachable.

I wondered which one was real.

Maybe both.

By lunch, Lara wouldn't stop asking questions.

“So…”

“No.”

“You didn't even let me ask.”

“I know what you're going to ask.”

“Okay, then answer.”

I sighed.

“We met Friday.”

“Where?”

“Café.”

“Just you two?”

“No.”

“Then?”

I told her about the rain.

The waiting shed.

The conversation.

Nothing else.

Lara looked strangely quiet.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Lara.”

She looked at Ethan across the cafeteria.

He was sitting alone.

Again.

“Do you know about his brother?”

“Yes.”

“Then?”

“Nothing.”

She looked back at me.

“Just be careful.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because Ethan isn't exactly…”

She stopped.

“Isn't exactly what?”

“Easy.”

I laughed.

“I'm not dating him.”

“I didn't say you were.”

“But you're acting like it.”

Lara shook her head.

“I'm just saying, don't get too close.”

I looked toward Ethan.

He was staring at his phone.

His expression was unreadable.

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met.

He looked away first.

“There's something wrong with him,” Lara said quietly.

“That's a little harsh.”

“I'm not saying he's bad.”

“Then?”

“He's carrying something.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“I don't know.”

“His brother?”

She nodded.

“Adrian.”

“What happened to him?”

Lara looked around before answering.

“He disappeared three years ago.”

“I know.”

“Do you know the rumors?”

“What rumors?”

“That Ethan was the last person who saw him.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

“That's what people say.”

“Did the police say that?”

“No.”

“Then it's just gossip.”

“Maybe.”

“Lara.”

She sighed.

“I'm just telling you what I've heard.”

I looked toward Ethan again.

He was still alone.

Suddenly, I felt guilty for looking at him differently.

He hadn't done anything to me.

He had just been kind enough to share his phone and stay with me while it rained.

And yet everyone seemed determined to turn him into something frightening.

After classes, I stayed behind to finish an assignment.

The classroom slowly emptied.

Lara left.

Then everyone else.

Ethan remained.

I didn't know why.

Neither did I ask.

The silence was almost peaceful.

I was writing when I heard a chair move.

I looked up.

Ethan was sitting two desks away.

“You're still here.”

“So are you.”

“Fair.”

He leaned against the desk.

“About Friday…”

I looked up.

“What about it?”

“Don't tell anyone.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Because people talk.”

“That's their problem.”

“It becomes ours when they talk about us.”

I thought about it.

He was right.

Blackwood Academy seemed to survive on gossip.

One person says something.

Another person adds a detail.

By the end of the day, nobody knows what's true anymore.

“Fine.”

“Thanks.”

He started walking away.

“Ethan.”

He stopped.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you say you were my classmate before I even knew?”

He smiled slightly.

“Lucky guess.”

“That's not funny.”

“I know.”

He walked toward the door.

Then he stopped again.

“See you tomorrow, Mia.”

“See you.”

He left.

I watched the door close.

Something felt different.

Not necessarily bad.

Just different.

I looked down at my notebook.

At the bottom of the page, without realizing it, I had written his name.

Ethan.

I immediately crossed it out.

“Seriously?”

I closed my notebook.

Maybe Lara was right.

Maybe I was getting too curious.

And curiosity was dangerous when you didn't know what you were looking for.

The next morning, someone left a folded piece of paper inside my notebook.

I didn't notice it until I was already seated.

At first, I thought it was part of my notes.

I opened it.

There were only six words.

You should stay away from Ethan Vale.

My fingers went cold.

I looked around.

Everyone was busy.

Lara was talking to someone near the door.

Daniel was fixing his bag.

A few students were laughing near the windows.

Nobody looked suspicious.

I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.

Maybe it was a joke.

Maybe someone was trying to scare me.

But why Ethan?

I looked toward the back of the classroom.

His seat was empty.

For some reason, I felt relieved.

Then my phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One message.

You were warned.

I stared at the screen.

Another message appeared.

Now ask him about Adrian.

My breathing became shallow.

I locked my phone.

Then unlocked it again.

I checked the number.

No name.

Nothing.

I tried calling.

The number was unavailable.

“Great.”

“What's wrong?”

Napalingon ako.

Lara was standing beside me.

“Nothing.”

She looked at my face.

“Something happened.”

“It's nothing.”

“Mia.”

I hesitated.

Then I showed her the message.

Her face immediately changed.

“Where did you get that?”

“Unknown number.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

She sat down beside me.

“Block it.”

“Already did.”

“Good.”

“Do you know who it is?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“Lara.”

“I don't.”

“Then why do you look scared?”

“I don't.”

“You do.”

She was silent.

Then she whispered,

“Don't tell Ethan.”

I stared at her.

“Why?”

“Because he'll make it worse.”

“How?”

“I don't know.”

That wasn't an answer.

And somehow, it scared me more.

Ethan arrived ten minutes late.

The moment he entered, his eyes went directly toward me.

He stopped.

Maybe he noticed something.

Maybe he could tell.

He walked to his seat.

As he passed my desk, he quietly asked,

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He stopped.

“You're lying.”

I looked at him.

“Maybe.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

He stared at me.

Then his gaze dropped to my hand.

I was still holding the folded note.

He understood.

His expression changed.

“Where did you get that?”

“Inside my notebook.”

“Who put it there?”

“I don't know.”

He took a slow breath.

“Mia…”

“What?”

“Did you get any messages?”

I froze.

“How did you know?”

He didn't answer.

I lowered my voice.

“Yes.”

His jaw tightened.

“What did they say?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me.”

I hesitated.

Then I showed him the message.

He read it.

His expression became completely unreadable.

“Who is Adrian?”

He looked at me.

“You don't need to know.”

“That's exactly what the message said.”

“What?”

“That I should ask you about Adrian.”

He looked away.

For a moment, I thought he might leave.

Instead, he pulled the chair beside me.

He sat down.

“My brother.”

I waited.

“He disappeared three years ago.”

“I know.”

“Who told you?”

“Lara.”

He nodded slowly.

“What else?”

“That people think you were the last person who saw him.”

He looked at me.

“I was.”

My stomach tightened.

“You were?”

“Yes.”

“Then what happened?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“No.”

You were with him.”

“I said I was the last person who saw him.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“I know.”

“Then explain.”

He stared at the desk.

“We argued.”

“About what?”

“My father.”

I became quiet.

“Then?”

“He left.”

“And you didn't follow?”

“I thought he'd come back.”

“Did he?”

“No.”

Silence filled the space between us.

I didn't know what to say.

Then Ethan looked at me.

“That's why I told you not to get close.”

“Because of your brother?”

“Because of everything.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It has to be.”

I shook my head.

“You don't get to decide what I should know.”

His expression hardened.

“You have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can't.”

“Can't or won't?”

He looked at me.

“Both.”

That answer hurt more than I expected.

I looked away.

“Fine.”

He stood.

“Mia.”

“Don't.”

He stopped.

“I said fine.”

He walked away.

The rest of the day felt strange.

I couldn't concentrate.

Every time I looked at Ethan, I remembered what he said.

I was the last person who saw him.

I wondered what kind of guilt he carried.

I wondered if he blamed himself.

I wondered if he was telling the truth.

And most importantly—

I wondered why someone cared so much about keeping me away from him.

If Ethan really was dangerous, why warn me?

Why not simply leave me alone?

Unless the warning wasn't meant to protect me.

Unless it was meant to protect something else.

Something Ethan knew.

Something someone didn't want me to discover.

After classes, I found Ethan outside the school gate.

He was alone.

I almost walked past him.

Then he spoke.

“You're going home?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded.

“Good.”

I looked at him.

“You don't have to worry about me.”

“I know.”

“Then stop.”

“I'll try.”

I almost smiled.

“That's the first honest answer you've given me.”

He smiled faintly.

“Maybe.”

We stood there in silence.

Then he said,

“About earlier…”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For shutting you out.”

I looked at him.

He seemed genuinely tired.

“I understand.”

“No, you don't.”

“Maybe not.”

He looked at me.

“But I'm trying.”

Something changed in his expression.

Very small.

Almost invisible.

“That's what scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because you're trying.”

I didn't understand.

“What does that mean?”

He looked away.

“Nothing.”

There it was again.

Another wall.

Another secret.

I sighed.

“You're impossible.”

“I know.”

Then my mother's car arrived.

I opened the door.

Before getting in, I looked back at him.

“Goodbye, Ethan.”

“Goodbye, Mia.”

I closed the door.

As the car drove away, I looked through the window.

He was still standing there.

Watching.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The room was dark except for the light from my phone.

I opened the message thread with the unknown number.

Blocked.

Deleted.

Gone.

I should have felt better.

I didn't.

I kept thinking about Adrian.

About Ethan.

About the warning.

And about the way Ethan had looked at me when he said he was afraid I was trying to understand him.

I opened my browser.

Typed:

Adrian Vale missing Blackwood

Several results appeared.

I clicked one.

LOCAL STUDENT STILL MISSING AFTER THREE YEARS

I read the article.

Adrian Vale, twenty-one, disappeared after leaving his family's home.

No body.

No confirmed sighting.

No clear explanation.

The article mentioned one detail that made me stop.

Authorities reportedly found no evidence of foul play.

I scrolled further.

There was a photograph.

Ethan's family.

His father.

His mother.

And Adrian.

Ethan wasn't in the picture.

I wondered why.

Then I saw something else.

A quote from Ethan's father.

“We have accepted what happened and simply want privacy.”

I stared at the sentence.

Accepted?

How could someone accept not knowing where their son was?

I closed the article.

My phone vibrated.

I froze.

The blocked number had somehow sent another message.

I opened it.

You're asking the wrong questions.

Another appeared.

Ask Ethan what happened the night Adrian disappeared.

Then:

Ask him who was with them.

My hands went cold.

I didn't know why, but suddenly I was no longer curious.

I was scared.

Not of Ethan.

Not exactly.

I was scared because someone was watching.

Someone knew what I was searching.

Someone knew I was asking questions.

Someone wanted me to keep going.

I turned off my phone.

Then I heard something outside.

A soft sound.

Like footsteps.

I froze.

Slowly, I stood.

I walked toward the window.

The curtains were closed.

I reached for them.

Then stopped.