Chapter Twelve: Where it all began

(Sarah's POV)

I woke to the faint sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand, a soft buzz cutting through the haze of restless sleep. My heart lurched before I even opened my eyes, a part of me hoping—foolishly—that it was Hector. But deep down, I knew better. Hector wouldn't call, not now. Not while he was out there, somewhere, alone.

The sun was just beginning to color the sky a gentle pink outside my window. I squinted at the screen, disappointment already settling in when I saw Jasmine as the caller ID. Still, I answered, forcing my voice into something approaching awake. "Hey."

"Morning," Jasmine said. Her tone was subdued but steady. "I, uh, didn't wake you, did I?"

I exhaled. "It's fine. I wasn't really sleeping well anyway."

A pause crackled over the line. "Me neither," she admitted. "Look, I've been thinking about the code. My friend is looking at it, but it's slow going. She says it might need a cipher key or references we don't have."

Disappointment tugged at my chest. "So we're at a dead end?"

"Not necessarily," Jasmine said quickly. "But we might have to dig deeper. Check more of Hector's stuff or talk to anyone who knew him well."

I glanced around my bedroom—clothes scattered, the duvet half on the floor. A chaos that mirrored my inner state. "Right," I murmured. "I'll see what else I can find."

"Take it easy, though," Jasmine said gently. "Don't forget to breathe."

The concern in her voice threatened to crack my composure. I thanked her and hung up, setting the phone aside. With a groan, I forced myself out of bed, telling my trembling legs to carry me through another day.

----

A Surprising Invitation

An hour later, I'd showered and dressed in my usual work attire: black slacks, a blouse, and a lightweight jacket. The code slip from Hector's picture frame was tucked securely into my wallet, as if it were a secret talisman. I didn't know why I was going into the office—my mind was miles away, fixated on Hector's disappearance. But routine was sometimes the only thing keeping me from collapsing.

As I stepped out of my apartment, I nearly collided with Daniel, my new neighbor. He jumped back, eyes wide. "Whoa, sorry!"

I clutched my purse strap, heart still pounding. "No, it's my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

He offered a quick smile, shifting a small grocery bag in his arms. "Everything okay? You seem… stressed."

I forced a shrug. "Just life stuff."

Daniel nodded as though he understood perfectly. "I get it. Listen, I was thinking—I've been meaning to check out this new coffee spot a couple blocks away. Would you want to grab a cup sometime? If you're free."

His invitation caught me off guard. For a moment, I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say no, to shut everyone out until I found Hector. But Daniel's friendly gaze reminded me I couldn't spend every waking moment consumed by fear. "Maybe another day," I said, offering a polite half-smile. "Work is hectic right now."

"Sure," he replied, tone warm but not pushy. "No pressure. Offer's open."

We exchanged a brief nod before heading our separate ways. As I descended the stairs, a strange thought flickered through my mind: Daniel had good timing, always seeming to appear when I was about to fall apart. I pushed it aside—not everyone was a conspirator. Some people were just nice.

----

The Office

The commute was a blur of honking cars and stale air. By the time I reached my desk at Greenway Marketing, I was already exhausted, the coded slip in my wallet feeling heavier than ever. My inbox overflowed with emails, but focusing on them felt impossible.

I spent the morning half-heartedly answering queries, my mind drifting to Hector every few minutes. Where are you? I kept wondering. Why can't you let me help you? The memory of his apartment, wiped clean, haunted me like a bad dream.

Around noon, my boss, Mr. Collins, stopped by. He eyed me with fatherly concern. "Sarah, you doing alright?"

I forced a thin smile. "I'm okay, just… a lot on my mind."

He nodded, lips pursed. "I can see that. Listen, you've been one of our best performers, but your work's slipping. If you need a personal day or two—"

My chest tightened. I didn't want pity, but I also didn't have the energy to fight. "I appreciate the concern. Maybe I'll take a day off soon. Thanks."

He patted the edge of my cubicle wall and left me to my thoughts. A personal day might be wise—time to sift through Hector's boxes or pester Jasmine's friend about the code. But the idea of being alone in my apartment, drowning in memories, made my stomach churn.

---

Flashback – How We First Met

Unable to focus on spreadsheets any longer, I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander to a happier time. The day I first met Hector rose unbidden, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

I'd been running late to a meeting across town, my hair still damp from a rushed shower. The tiny café on Broad Street was my last hope for coffee before a grueling day. I pushed open the door, nearly colliding with someone leaving. A swirl of warm air and the scent of espresso greeted me.

The place was cramped—only a handful of tables, most occupied by people tapping away on laptops or reading newspapers. A chalkboard menu listed drinks with whimsical names. I hurried to the counter, fumbling in my purse for change.

That's when I heard a soft chuckle behind me. "Short on cash?"

I spun around to see a man—dark hair, warm brown eyes, a faint smile curving his lips. He wore a simple button-down shirt and jeans, but he carried himself with a certain quiet confidence. My cheeks burned. "I—I think I have enough, just give me a second."

He arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Let me cover it. You look like you're about to sprint to a meeting."

Pride warred with embarrassment. "I'm fine, really—"

The barista cleared her throat impatiently, eyeing the growing line. The man shrugged, handing over a bill. "Put hers on me."

I swallowed my protest. "Thank you," I managed, stepping aside so he could place his own order. My face felt hot, but relief mingled with gratitude. Once he finished, we both lingered awkwardly near the pickup counter, waiting for our drinks.

"Sarah," I finally said, extending a hand. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Hector," he replied, shaking my hand. His grip was firm, his touch warm. "No problem. I like to rescue people in distress."

I scoffed, a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm not in distress. Just… under-caffeinated."

He grinned, and for a moment, the rest of the bustling café faded. "Then I'm glad to help."

The barista called out our orders, and we each grabbed a steaming paper cup. I glanced at my watch, panic flaring at the time. But something about Hector's easy demeanor made me linger. "So, do you always buy coffee for strangers?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. But you seemed like you needed a break."

I couldn't argue with that. "Well, thanks. I appreciate it."

He gestured to a small table by the window, unoccupied for the moment. "I have a few minutes before I head out. Care to sit?"

My initial thought was to decline—I had places to be. But curiosity and the undeniable warmth in his eyes made me nod. We sat, sipping our drinks. I told him about my marketing job, complaining half-jokingly about my tyrant of a boss. He listened with genuine interest, occasionally throwing in a witty remark that made me laugh.

He was vague about his own work, calling it "government contracting." I sensed there was more to it, but I didn't press. Something in his expression told me it was complicated, and I barely knew him. Still, the conversation flowed easily, as if we'd been friends for years.

When I finally glanced at my watch again, twenty minutes had vanished. My heart lurched—I was definitely late. I jumped up, stammering apologies and excuses, but Hector just smiled and waved it off. "Go. Good luck with your boss."

I scribbled my number on a napkin—an impulsive move I'd never done before. "In case you want to rescue me again," I teased, cheeks hot.

He pocketed the napkin with a grin. "I'll keep it safe."

I left the café feeling oddly light, even as I sprinted to catch a taxi. That morning, my meeting ended up being a disaster, but I didn't care. My thoughts kept drifting back to the quiet confidence in Hector's voice, the spark in his eyes.

It felt like fate, or something close to it.

Return to the Present

The memory washed over me like a bittersweet wave. I missed that easy banter, the way we clicked from the very start. Now, everything was tangled in secrets and fear. The distance between us felt immeasurable.

A gentle ping from my computer snapped me back to reality. I blinked, realizing I'd been staring at a blank email draft for who knows how long. The message was from Tolu, a coworker, reminding me about an upcoming pitch meeting. I typed a quick acknowledgement, ignoring the pang of guilt that I was letting my work slip.

My phone buzzed on the desk. I grabbed it, heart pounding, but it was only a text from Jasmine:

"Hey, any luck on your end? My friend's still stuck. We might need a different approach."

I typed back: "No luck yet. Found some old boxes, might search them tonight." Then I paused, adding: "Thanks for everything, J." She'd been a rock for me, even if the code was stumping her friend.

Another hour crawled by before I decided I'd had enough. I told Mr. Collins I wasn't feeling well—not entirely a lie—and left the office early. The hustle of midday traffic enveloped me as I stepped onto the sidewalk, the sun glaring overhead. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I realized I'd barely eaten. Food seemed unimportant when my world was in limbo.

I ducked into a small bakery, buying a pastry more out of necessity than appetite. As I chewed mechanically, my eyes scanned the passing crowd, half-expecting to see Hector's familiar face. The pang of longing that hit me was almost physical.

Resolve at Dusk

By the time I reached home, the sun was dipping low, casting the streets in golden light. My apartment felt too quiet. I flicked on a lamp, the shadows receding reluctantly. I tossed my bag onto the couch, rummaging through the boxes of Hector's stuff I'd dragged out previously. Old receipts, random souvenirs from trips, a few T-shirts that smelled faintly of him.

Nothing new jumped out. Frustration simmered. The code was my only lead, but without a key or more context, it was useless. I thought about contacting the neighbor, Daniel, for help—he seemed tech-savvy enough to watch movies on his laptop, but that was hardly a guarantee. Besides, I wasn't ready to trust him with something that might endanger him.

Slumping onto the floor, I let out a shaky breath. My gaze fell on the battered photo album we'd once made together. I flipped through pages of pictures: birthdays, weekend getaways, silly selfies. Each image a snapshot of a life I no longer recognized. The ache in my chest flared, tears prickling my eyes.

Why did you leave me, Hector? I asked the silence. The memory of our first meeting replayed in my mind—his easy smile, the warmth in his voice. He was the same man who'd whispered sweet promises about forever, who'd held me close when nightmares woke me in the middle of the night.

Yet something had driven him away, something bigger than either of us. The code in my wallet was proof. I traced my finger over a photo of him in a crowd, his hand holding mine. He'd said pictures were anchors, capturing pieces of our souls so we'd never lose them.

I pressed the album to my chest, inhaling shakily. Hector might be gone physically, but he'd left anchors everywhere—photos, the code, memories I couldn't erase. And if he thought I'd give up on him, he was wrong. I was stubborn, yes, but more than that, I loved him.

Setting the album aside, I wiped my tears and stood. My reflection in the mirror across the room looked determined, eyes still red but jaw set. If Hector had found a way to hide that code, he must believe in me. Maybe it was a test of my resolve, or a final gift to lead me to the truth.

The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a wash of purple and orange in the sky. I watched it fade, my mind made up. I'd keep searching. For more clues, for more scraps of intel, for anything that might decode Hector's message. And if that meant knocking on every door, pestering every friend, or pushing myself to the brink, so be it.

Because I remembered how it all began—how fate or coincidence brought us together over a simple cup of coffee. And I refused to let a shadowy conspiracy steal that from me.

Hector, I thought, wherever you are, hold on. I'm coming for you, one clue at a time.