Uneasy Realizations

Thea reached home late that evening, her mind still replaying everything from the past few hours. The sight of Ariana's shoes, the unsettling presence of Clara at Andrew's dinner, and the looming mystery surrounding Harrison—it all clashed in her head like an unsolved puzzle.

She changed into her nightwear, but sleep didn't come easy. Instead, she found herself scrolling through social media, trying to distract herself. And then, she saw it.

Andrew had posted a picture—himself and Clara, smiling at the airport. The caption read: Off to new beginnings!

A lump formed in Thea's throat. She stared at the image for a long moment, her fingers gripping the phone tightly. Clara looked effortlessly comfortable next to Andrew, the way she leaned toward him felt too natural, too familiar.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Adrian.

Adrian: Coffee and pasta? Didn't know you still had the same favorites.

Thea hesitated before replying. Some things don't change.

Before she could overthink her response, her phone rang. It was Andrew.

She answered, pressing the phone to her ear. "Andrew?"

"Thea, I'm about to board my flight," he said casually, but there was something distant in his tone.

Before she could reply, she heard Clara's voice in the background.

"Andrew, we need to go."

Thea's grip on the phone tightened. "Clara's with you?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral.

Andrew hesitated. "Yes. She's working with me now."

A sharp pang of unease settled in her chest. "You didn't think to tell me before?"

Andrew sighed. "It's business, Thea. Don't overthink it."

She swallowed back her emotions. "Safe flight," she muttered before ending the call.

Thea sat on her bed, staring blankly at the phone screen. She hated this feeling—this gnawing sensation in her gut that something wasn't right. No matter how much she tried to reason with herself, her instincts screamed otherwise.

In an attempt to distract herself, she pulled out her laptop and began looking into the image they had recovered from Ariana's phone. If Harrison had truly left the country before Ariana's death, then who was the man in the picture?

As she scrolled through old student records and social media profiles, frustration built within her. The answers were close—she could feel it. But she also knew that the closer she got, the more dangerous this truth could become.

She sighed and closed her laptop, leaning back against the pillows. The city lights flickered outside her window, casting long shadows across her room.

Tonight, sleep would not come easy. And she had a feeling that in the days to come, peace would remain just as elusive.