Fathom of Us

Chapter 2: The Envelope

The words haunted her.

Don't lose the bag.

Just four words.

Yet somehow, they carried a weight that settled heavily in Reanna's chest.

The cream-colored card lay hidden between the pages of her notebook, tucked away where no curious eyes could find it. She had read the message countless times during class, hoping that if she stared at it long enough, another sentence would appear—as though the paper had simply forgotten to reveal the rest.

It never did.

Her Literature professor was discussing the semester's reading list at the front of the classroom. Around her, pens scratched against paper, pages turned, and chairs creaked as students shifted in their seats.

Reanna heard none of it.

Her thoughts kept wandering back to one question.

Who knew about the sunflower bag?

She had carried it since senior high school.

It had been with her through every examination, every scholarship interview, every sleepless night in the hospital beside her grandmother's bed. It had faded beneath the summer sun, survived countless rainy afternoons, and endured years of being heavier than it was ever meant to carry.

No one had ever paid attention to it.

Not until today.

A sudden burst of applause echoed through the room.

Reanna blinked.

She looked up just in time to realize everyone else was clapping.

"..."

Without knowing why, she joined them.

Only afterward did she realize she had absolutely no idea what everyone had applauded for.

Great.

The professor smiled.

"I'm glad all of you are excited for this semester."

Reanna forced an awkward smile.

If only you knew...

The shrill ringing of the dismissal bell rescued her.

Almost instantly, the classroom transformed into a sea of movement. Conversations overlapped one another as students packed their bags, compared schedules, and hurried toward the hallway.

Reanna stayed where she was.

She waited.

Only when the room had emptied did she carefully pull the cream-colored envelope from her notebook once more.

The edges were perfectly crisp.

It smelled faintly of old paper.

Whoever had written it had taken remarkable care.

Slowly, she unfolded the card.

Don't lose the bag.

Nothing else.

She traced the neat black letters with her thumb.

"Who are you?"

"Talking to yourself already?"

Reanna gasped.

The card nearly slipped from her fingers.

She turned around to find Sandra standing dramatically at the doorway with one hand planted on her hip.

"There you are."

Sandra Ford had never understood the concept of making a quiet entrance.

She floated into the room with the confidence of someone walking onto a fashion runway instead of entering a university classroom.

Years ago, everyone had known her as Sandro Ford. But after embracing the woman she had always known herself to be, she left that name behind. Sandra wasn't just the name she chose—it was the life she chose.

And she wore it proudly.

Today was no different.

Her crimson hair fell neatly over her shoulders, her eyeliner was flawless, and her glossy lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Miss Rivera," Sandra announced dramatically. "I've searched every corner of this university."

Reanna slipped the envelope inside her notebook before Sandra noticed.

"You've been looking for me for five minutes."

Sandra gasped as though deeply wounded.

"Five minutes?"

She placed a hand over her heart.

"To me, it felt like five years."

Reanna laughed.

"You deserve an award."

"I know."

"For being dramatic."

"I also know."

Sandra pulled out the chair beside her and sat backward on it, folding her arms over the backrest.

"So."

"So?"

"Spill."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sandra raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, please."

She leaned forward.

"You've had your 'something-is-bothering-me-but-I-refuse-to-talk-about-it' face since this morning."

"I have a face for that?"

"You absolutely do."

Reanna sighed.

"It's nothing."

Sandra clicked her tongue.

"That's strike one."

"What?"

"You only say 'it's nothing' when it's actually everything."

For a brief second, Reanna considered showing her the envelope.

But something stopped her.

She couldn't explain it.

It wasn't fear.

Nor distrust.

It simply...

Didn't feel right.

"I'll tell you," she said softly.

"Eventually."

Sandra studied her for a long moment before smiling.

"Fine."

She stood and slung her own bag over her shoulder.

"But if this turns out to be about some secret boyfriend you've been hiding from me, I'm ending this friendship."

Reanna laughed.

"I can barely afford lunch."

Sandra nodded thoughtfully.

"Fair."

The two burst into laughter.

The mystery surrounding the envelope faded—if only for a moment.

"Come on," Sandra said, hooking her arm around Reanna's. "Library."

"Library?"

"I need to borrow three novels before the English majors attack the shelves."

Reanna stared at her.

"We are English majors."

Sandra smiled proudly.

"Exactly."

She pointed toward the hallway.

"I know our people."

The library of St. Alexandria State University had always been Reanna's favorite place on campus.

Unlike the bustling corridors outside, the library welcomed everyone with silence.

Golden afternoon light spilled through towering arched windows, painting long streaks across polished wooden floors. Dust floated lazily in the sunlight, dancing between shelves lined with books that had survived generations of students.

The familiar scent of aging pages instantly calmed her.

Books never judged.

They never whispered behind your back.

They never laughed because your bag was old.

Sandra inhaled dramatically.

"I swear," she whispered loudly, "if heaven has a smell, it's probably books."

"Keep your voice down."

"I am."

"You are not."

"I absolutely am."

A nearby librarian looked up.

"Miss."

Sandra smiled innocently.

"My apologies."

Somehow...

Even her apology echoed.

Reanna covered her face.

"I don't know her."

Sandra nudged her shoulder.

"You love me."

"I tolerate you."

"I'll take it."

They wandered between shelves, Sandra animatedly debating whether Camus would survive modern university if he had to write essays in APA format.

Reanna laughed so hard that tears almost formed in her eyes.

She adjusted the sunflower bag on her shoulder.

It was such a small movement.

One she had done thousands of times.

She never realized...

Someone had noticed.

The second floor overlooked the entire library.

Reserved for university officials and members of the Board of Regents, it was far quieter than the floors below.

At the end of the private reading room sat Michele Meyer.

Twenty-nine.

Chairman of Meyer Holdings.

Youngest member of the university's Board of Regents.

To most people, he was known for his family's wealth.

To those who worked with him...

He was known for his silence.

Stacks of reports lay before him, yet his concentration broke the moment laughter drifted upward.

He looked up.

Libraries weren't supposed to sound like that.

Curious, he walked toward the glass overlooking the main floor.

His eyes found the source immediately.

One young woman was apologizing to the librarian.

The other...

Was still talking.

Animatedly.

Fearlessly.

The contrast amused him.

Then...

Something else caught his eye.

A faded canvas bag.

A sunflower embroidered across the front.

His breathing stilled.

He stepped closer to the glass.

The worn straps.

The careful stitches.

The faded petals.

Impossible.

His fingers unconsciously tightened around the folder in his hand.

"Mr. Meyer?"

The librarian looked at him in confusion.

Michele didn't answer.

His eyes remained fixed on the sunflower bag.

Downstairs, Sandra was now negotiating with the librarian.

"But three books won't even last me a week."

"The borrowing limit is two."

"What if I promise to return them early?"

"No."

"What if I smile?"

"Still no."

Sandra sighed dramatically.

"This institution fears intelligent people."

The librarian pinched the bridge of his nose.

Beside her, Reanna laughed.

A genuine laugh.

Soft.

Unforced.

Beautiful.

She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before adjusting the sunflower bag once more.

Michele watched the movement.

"Who is she?" he asked quietly.

"The loud one? She is Sand--"

His eyes never left the girl beside her.

"No."

"The one with the sunflower bag."

The librarian glanced downstairs.

"I'm afraid I don't know her name."

Michele said nothing.

For reasons he couldn't explain...

He couldn't take his eyes off that bag.

Downstairs, Reanna reached into the front pocket of the sunflower bag to put away her library card.

Her fingertips brushed against paper.

She frowned.

Slowly...

She pulled out another envelope.

Not cream.

Not plain.

This one was made of thick ivory paper, sealed with a gold wax emblem shaped like a sunflower.

Her pulse quickened.

With trembling fingers, she turned it over.

Written across the front in elegant black ink were two words.

Reanna Rivera.

She was certain of one thing.

She had never seen that envelope before.