Obsessed with her - The shadow of The os Writer

Ethan Grayson's POV I left home early. As usual. The California sky was a pale blue. I didn't know if it would rain later, or if it would be cold today. I stood on my balcony watching the sky, wondering what the weather would be like today. I decided to go back to the kitchen. I had to eat breakfast and leave soon. The routine was the same as always. I picked up my coffee cup and brought it to my lips, strong as always. That's how I liked it. I drank it quickly and ate some toast. Then I went to my bedroom. I put on a well-ironed dark shirt and dark jeans. I adjusted my glasses on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror on the wardrobe. Black hair falling over my eyes, as always. Reddish brown eyes, with the same dull look as always, staring back at me. I muttered and turned away. I grabbed my backpack, sprayed on some cologne, and left the house. In the car, the world seemed distant. People running, horns honking, cars crossing aimlessly. But there, inside my vehicle, was the only place where I could control everything. Where I could breathe, alone. Think. Or pretend to think. I stayed there for a few minutes, trying to drive as fast as I could, dodging cars to get to college on time. ****** The university was bustling when I arrived. As I walked down the hallway, I saw students coming and going. They were carrying backpacks, talking to each other, and looking... too happy. Some of them recognized me from afar. I entered the classroom and immediately started listening. "Good morning, Professor Grayson!" said a student with a friendly smile. "That tip yesterday saved me," said Mateus, excitedly. "You're the best professor at the university," Peter added, sincerely. I nodded with a slight smile. I replied calmly. I had always been cordial. Kind, even. Looking in control helps. I liked teaching. Helping. It gave my existence some purpose. Even though, inside, everything was... gray. Stagnant. Dead since that night. I put my backpack on the table and started to gather the material I had prepared yesterday. Everything was perfect for teaching them. I began today's lesson. Everyone looked at me intently. **** The morning passed quickly... I gave them some exercises, helped them with questions, etc. When the bell rang, I muttered "See you tomorrow, guys" to the students and went to the teachers' room. There, I opened my lunch box and ate my lunch. Rice, chicken breast, and grilled zucchini. I wasn't a chef, but I knew how to get by. It was actually pretty good. I chewed slowly, staring at the wall in front of me. That's when... I realized what day it was... Images in my mind began to disturb me, as usual. And then... it was as if everything froze. Everything around me. Her face appeared... her beautiful blue eyes, straight, shiny blonde hair. She had a glow that was difficult to notice. Two years. Today marks exactly two years since Jenny died. Two years since I heard her voice, her laughter. Her hug. I haven't felt any of that in two years. My hunger was gone instantly. My stomach churned, and the taste of food disappeared. I bit my lip hard. I closed the pot, washed the cutlery, and left. I grabbed my backpack from my office and decided to leave. My shift was over. I went back to my house. Small, but cozy. The neighborhood was quiet, discreet. Like me. I parked and went inside, leaving my backpack on the couch. I always changed the door code. For safety. Always for safety. I went upstairs to my room and turned on my computer. The screen lit up, cold and blue. I put on my headphones, sat down, and took a deep breath. A ritual I repeated every day. I started accessing the websites... Old files, security camera footage from the street where Jenny died. A few streets down from where she lived. I spent hours reviewing everything. I listened to the clicks of the mouse, my eyes always alert, so as not to miss any details. The same stretch. The same emptiness. No trace. No sign. No face. But I wasn't going to give up. "I won't give up, ever," I whispered. Someone killed her. And someone is protecting that killer. Who could it be? Where are they? This isn't going to end like this. I'm going to find that person. Even if it costs me everything I have left. ***** Hours passed. I didn't notice the time. Until an alert flashed in the corner of the screen. A notification. A chat from the publishing platform. The message was short and to the point: Hello, Ethan. This is Simone from BlackInk Publishing. We are putting together a schedule with new writers and would like to schedule a mentoring session with you. Above-average pay. Can you make it today at 6 p.m.? I read it twice. I thought about it. The pay was good. And I never turned down this kind of work. Hello... Yes, I can. I'll be there soon. Thanks for reaching out to me, Simone. I replied. I turned off the computer right away. I got up and grabbed my cell phone and tablet from the side table. I checked the camera control panel in my house. Everything was working. All corners were covered: hallway, entrance, kitchen, back, office. I hid them well. No one would see them. No movement could enter or leave without me knowing. I put the devices in my backpack. I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and fixed my hair. I put on a simple black shirt. Dark jeans. Watch. Everything discreet. The car keys were in my pocket. I put on some cologne, grabbed my backpack, and left the house. I drove through the city center, weaving through traffic with ease. The sky was already turning orange. It would be dark soon. When I arrived, I parked in front of the building. The address Simone had given me. It was a charming house, adapted for publishing events. A discreet gate, soft lights in the front garden. I pressed the alarm and walked to the entrance. I rang the doorbell. And waited. In less than two minutes, the door opened. It was Simone, or so I thought. She smiled and introduced herself. "Welcome, Ethan Grayson. I'm Simone, please come in." I smiled discreetly and entered. Taking a few steps, I looked around... That's when I saw her. A radiant smile, she was sitting on the leather sofa with another woman. She was wearing a light pink dress that suited her. She had delicate features, round, gray, sparkling eyes... She had the same glow, the same smile. I was seeing... Jenny? My heart was beating differently... I could only... look at her. Who is... this woman?