The Vanishing Thread

By evening, the day finally let them go.

Emma and Lila drove back to the Valeria mansion, the sky dusted in orange. The city lights hadn't taken over yet.

As they passed a long stretch of private road, Lila slowed.

"Is that…?" she murmured.

Up ahead, parked half-hidden behind a thicket, was a black SUV. David's car.

And beside it—Rhea.

Talking. Gesturing wildly. Looking around like a paranoid animal cornered in a trap.

Emma's stomach dropped. Her pulse froze.

"Why is she with him?"

Lila reached for her phone. "I think we're about to find out something big."

But before the camera could focus, headlights flared behind them. A motorcycle. Loud. Fast. Closing in.

Lila panicked and hit the gas. The phone tumbled to the floor.

By the time they circled back a minute later, the SUV was gone. So was Rhea. Nothing but tire marks in the dirt.

Emma stared at the empty space like it was mocking her.

Whatever they'd stumbled onto… it had slipped through their fingers.

The next day at campus.

The whispers hadn't died. If anything, they'd grown. About Emma. About Jake. About whatever had sparked between them like static.

But Emma didn't care.

Not when Jake was waiting for her near the stairs, arms crossed, that unreadable expression on his face that somehow always softened when he saw her.

He walked beside her between classes like he belonged there. No apology. No hesitation. Just there.

And slowly, Emma started to adapt—matching his stride, lifting one brow the same way he did when someone said something ridiculous, even catching herself muttering "huh" under her breath during lectures like he always did.

They shared lunch under the old oak behind the humanities building. Not a word about the past. Just silence filled with unsaid things and occasional teasing.

Jake slid his notebook toward her during class, explaining a concept before Denwick even finished the sentence.

"You'll need this for the midterm," he murmured.

Emma blinked. "You remembered I struggled with this?"

Jake looked away. "I remember everything."

Professor Denwick paused mid-lecture once, staring over his glasses.

"Mr. Rolister," he said slowly, "It's unusual to see you this… attentive to another student."

Jake didn't miss a beat. "Group project, Professor. I'm investing in our success."

The class chuckled. Denwick raised a brow. "Whatever motivates you, I suppose."

Emma flushed, but Jake only smirked. Beneath the desk, his fingers brushed hers for a fleeting second. She didn't move away.

Later, in the courtyard.

Jake leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You still don't get that people are watching you like they're waiting for you to break."

Emma tilted her head. "And what do you see?"

Jake's expression flickered. "Someone who's still standing."

Their moments became quiet rituals. He waited outside her class. Helped her with lab work. Shared notes. Shared coffee. Even when she didn't ask.

And at the mansion, when they worked on the project together, Jake stayed longer than he needed to. He would hover in her kitchen, arguing with her about music, leaning too close as he corrected her notes.

Lila, always sharp, offered one evening, "Why don't we just finish the project here at the mansion? Fewer distractions."

Jake answered before Emma could. "That works."

His voice was calm. But something in his eyes said he wanted to stay.

But change invites attention.

Whispers swirled through the campus.

"Why is Jake Rolister suddenly glued to Valeria's daughter?"

"She's controlling him. Like her father controls everything."

"No way this ends well."

Emma overheard it all. So did Jake. But neither flinched.

Until Rhea struck.

In the library courtyard, where Emma sat alone reviewing notes, Rhea appeared like a shadow cast too long.

"You think you've won?" she hissed. "You have no idea what you're playing with."

Emma stiffened. "If you're so scared of what I know, maybe don't keep showing up."

Rhea's nails curled into her palm. "You don't belong here. You're just another face your daddy controls."

Then—she grabbed Emma's notebook and flung it into the fountain.

Before Emma could react, Jake was there.

His hand locked around Rhea's wrist. "That's enough."

Rhea blinked in shock. "Jake—"

"You don't get to talk to her like that. Not anymore." His voice was quiet, dangerous.

Emma's heart raced.

Jake turned, reached into the fountain, and handed Emma the dripping notebook without saying a word. His fingers lingered on hers again. This time, she didn't let go.

Evening settled again.

Emma and Lila left campus together. But the moment felt heavier, quieter.

Halfway through the drive, Emma sat up.

"Lila. Stop the car."

A familiar black SUV sat parked by the outer gates. Empty.

And a figure near the woods—tall, frantic—was pacing. Alone.

"Is that…?"

Lila squinted. "Rhea?"

But it didn't make sense. Her clothes were torn. She was barefoot. And she kept looking over her shoulder like someone—or something—was chasing her.

Then—she disappeared into the trees.

The next day, chaos.

Rhea hadn't returned to the dorms. Her phone was found smashed near the parking lot. Her belongings untouched. No one had seen her.

Campus buzzed with theories. The dean made an announcement. An investigation was launched.

And while tension thickened—

Professor Denwick called out in class, "Mr. Rolister. You've been nominated for the Elite Scholars' Outdoor Seminar."

Jake blinked. "That's… a lot of words."

"It's an invitation-only training for our top students," Denwick explained. "Two weeks. Off-grid. Partner work. You're accepted. Choose someone to pair with."

Jake stood in silence for a moment.

Then, with eyes locked on Emma, he spoke without hesitation.

"Emma Valeria."

To be continued…

End of Part 11