Her Exception

CHAPTER 22: Don't Let Go

The footsteps stopped.

Dave and I stood halfway up the stairs.

Neither of us moved.

I could hear my own breathing.

“Maybe it was the house,” I whispered.

Dave glanced at me.

“Houses don't usually walk.”

“Very funny.”

“I wasn't joking.”

I tightened my grip on his hand.

He noticed.

“You can squeeze harder if you want.”

“I am not scared.”

“You're crushing my fingers.”

I immediately loosened my grip.

“Sorry.”

He smiled.

“Don't be.”

We continued upstairs.

The hallway was dark.

There were four doors.

Three were open.

One was locked.

Dave pointed toward it.

“That one.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it's the only one someone bothered locking.”

“Good point.”

We walked toward it.

The floor creaked.

I stopped.

Dave looked at me.

“What?”

“I heard something.”

“Where?”

“Behind us.”

We turned.

Nothing.

Then suddenly—

BANG!

The door at the end of the hallway slammed shut.

I jumped.

Dave immediately pulled me closer.

“It's okay.”

“I'm fine.”

“You almost climbed me.”

“I did not!”

“You did.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed quietly.

Then we heard it again.

A woman's voice.

“Help…”

I froze.

“Did you hear that?”

Dave nodded.

We looked at each other.

“Someone's inside,” I whispered.

He tried the locked door.

Nothing.

“Move.”

I stepped back.

Dave kicked it.

Once.

Twice.

The lock finally broke.

The door opened.

And I froze.

The room was empty.

Except for a chair.

A table.

And an old cassette player.

It suddenly turned on.

Static filled the room.

Then—

a voice.

My father's voice.

“If you're hearing this, then I'm already gone.”

I stopped breathing.

Dave looked at me.

The recording continued.

“Thea, if you're listening…”

My heart tightened.

“…I'm sorry.”

I stepped closer.

“Dad…”

Dave didn't say anything.

He simply stayed beside me.

The recording continued.

“I know you will blame me.”

I swallowed.

“You have every right to.”

The voice cracked.

“But there was one thing I could never tell you.”

Static.

Then—

“You were never the person I was trying to protect.”

I froze.

Dave looked at me.

The recording continued.

“I was protecting the person you would eventually love.”

My heart stopped.

I stared at Dave.

He stared back.

“What does that mean?” I whispered.

The recording continued.

“Because that person would become the only thing capable of breaking the cycle.”

The tape clicked.

Then stopped.

Silence.

I stared at the cassette player.

“That's it?”

Dave nodded slowly.

“Apparently.”

I looked at him.

“What cycle?”

“I don't know.”

“What does he mean by ‘the person you would love’?”

Dave became very quiet.

I immediately looked away.

“Forget it.”

He didn't answer.

“Dave.”

“Hmm?”

“Don't.”

“I wasn't going to say anything.”

“Good.”

He smiled faintly.

“Because you would've panicked.”

“I would not.”

“You're already panicking.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

I glared at him.

He laughed.

For a moment, the tension disappeared.

Then—

something fell from the ceiling.

A small metal box.

It landed between us.

I picked it up.

There was an engraving.

D + T

I stared at it.

“What the…”

Dave took it.

“D and T.”

“Dave and Thea?”

He looked at me.

“Apparently.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe your father had a sense of humor.”

I opened the box.

Inside was a key.

And a photograph.

I pulled out the photograph.

It was of me.

But I was much younger.

Maybe six.

I was standing beside a boy.

Dave.

I stared.

“No.”

Dave took the photograph.

His expression changed.

“I don't remember this.”

I looked at the date.

2017.

I was six.

Dave was twelve.

But there was something written behind it.

> The first meeting.

I frowned.

“We've met before?”

Dave shook his head.

“I don't remember.”

“Neither do I.”

We looked at each other.

Then I noticed something.

In the photograph—

we were holding hands.

I looked at Dave.

“Why were we holding hands?”

He smiled.

“Maybe you liked me.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I was six.”

“Exactly.”

“You were twelve.”

“Still charming.”

“You're impossible.”

He laughed.

Then his smile slowly disappeared.

“Thea.”

“What?”

“Look at the background.”

I turned the photograph around.

Behind us was the same house.

But there was someone standing in the doorway.

My father.

And beside him—

Elena.

Watching us.

I felt a chill.

“Why were we here?”

“I don't know.”

I looked at the key.

“Maybe this opens something.”

Dave nodded.

“Let's find out.”

---

We searched the house.

Downstairs.

Kitchen.

Living room.

Storage.

Nothing.

Then we found another locked door.

Behind the stairs.

I inserted the key.

It clicked.

The door opened.

Inside was a small room filled with boxes.

Documents.

Photographs.

Old clothes.

Letters.

And a single wooden cabinet.

I walked toward it.

There were four names written on the drawers.

ALTHEA

AMARA

LARA

SOFIA

I opened mine.

Inside was a small notebook.

My name was written on the cover.

I opened it.

The first page contained only one sentence.

> If Thea ever reads this, tell her I never stopped loving her.

My eyes filled with tears.

I turned the page.

There were dates.

Notes.

Memories.

My childhood.

My first day of school.

My first fever.

My first birthday.

Everything.

Someone had been documenting my life.

I looked at Dave.

“Who wrote this?”

He shook his head.

“I don't know.”

Then I saw something.

A page dated when I was fifteen.

There was a note.

> She has started carrying everything alone.

Another.

> She doesn't ask for help.

Another.

> She pretends she doesn't need anyone.

My chest tightened.

These weren't random observations.

Someone knew me.

Really knew me.

I turned another page.

> One day, someone will come along who won't let her carry everything alone.

I stopped.

The next sentence was underlined.

> His name is Dave.

My breath caught.

I looked at him.

He stared at the page.

Neither of us spoke.

“What the hell?”

Dave looked confused.

“I swear I didn't know.”

“I know.”

I turned the page.

There was another note.

> When the time comes, she will fight him.

Dave laughed softly.

“That sounds like you.”

I looked at him.

“Shut up.”

> She will deny that she needs him.

I glared.

“Okay, that's creepy.”

Dave smiled.

“Very accurate.”

> But eventually, she will understand that he isn't there to save her.

I stopped smiling.

The next sentence made my heart beat faster.

> He is there to remind her that she doesn't have to save herself every time.

Silence.

I closed the notebook.

I couldn't read anymore.

Dave looked at me.

“Thea.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

He didn't push.

He never did.

Instead, he sat beside me.

Quietly.

Just like always.

I stared at the floor.

“Why do you stay?”

He looked at me.

“Because I want to.”

“What if I push you away?”

“I'll give you space.”

“And if I tell you to leave?”

“I'll leave.”

I looked at him.

“But?”

He smiled.

“But I'll come back when you're ready.”

My chest tightened.

“Why?”

“Because you're worth coming back for.”

I looked away quickly.

“Don't say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

I swallowed.

“Because I might believe you.”

He became quiet.

Then—

“Good.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

“I want you to.”

Our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us looked away.

The room suddenly felt too small.

Too quiet.

Too warm.

I could hear his breathing.

He looked at my lips.

Just for a second.

Then back at my eyes.

I didn't move.

Neither did he.

He slowly lifted his hand.

I thought he was going to touch my face.

Instead—

he gently removed a strand of hair from my eyes.

“Dust,” he whispered.

“Oh.”

Brilliant.

That was all I could say.

“Oh.”

He smiled.

I wanted to disappear.

Then—

a loud noise came from downstairs.

We both jumped apart.

“Someone's here.”

Dave immediately stood.

I grabbed his arm.

“Don't go.”

He looked at me.

I didn't realize what I'd said until it was already out.

His expression softened.

“Okay.”

We stayed together.

Footsteps approached.

Slow.

Heavy.

Someone entered the room.

I held onto Dave's arm.

The person stopped outside the door.

Then—

a voice.

“Althea?”

My heart stopped.

I knew that voice.

My mother.

But she wasn't supposed to be here.

The door slowly opened.

Mama stood there.

She looked at Dave.

Then at me.

Her face became pale.

“What are you doing here?”

I frowned.

“You knew about this house?”

She didn't answer.

“Ma?”

She looked at the notebook in my hand.

Then her eyes filled with fear.

“You shouldn't have opened that.”

“Why?”

She stepped closer.

“Because that notebook isn't about your past.”

I frowned.

“What?”

She looked at Dave.

“It was written for your future.”

I stared at her.

“What does that mean?”

Mama's eyes moved toward the cabinet.

Then—

she whispered:

“Your father didn't write it.”

I felt cold.

“Then who did?”

She looked at Dave.

And said the words that made everything stop.

“Dave's father.”

Dave froze.

“My father?”

Mama nodded.

“And he wrote it because he knew exactly what would happen.”

I looked at the notebook.

Then at Dave.

“What did he know?”

Mama's voice trembled.

“He knew you two would meet.”

Silence.

“He knew you would become close.”

She looked at me.

“And he knew…”

She paused.

“…that Dave would become your exception.”

My heart stopped.

Dave looked at me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then Mama whispered—

“But he never told us why.”

And somewhere downstairs—

the front door slammed.

Someone else had entered the house.

Someone who apparently knew we were here.

And this time—

the footsteps were coming straight toward us.