“You’re the smartest person I know, but so,sostupid,” August grunts out, shaking his head.
I flinch involuntarily, my hand freezing mid-brush stroke as I process his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, struggling to keep the hurt at bay.
He lets out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture I know all too well. “You’re part of that family,myfamily, I try to save. And for the record, I never wanted you to throw away your work because of a setback. You can still work from here. Giving everything up? That’s not you. That’s not the strong, determined woman I know. What’s really going on?”
I slump in my chair, the fight draining out of me. “You don’t understand. It’s not just a setback. It’s… everything.”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, a deep crease forming between them. “What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself to finally voice the truth I’d been grappling with. My heart races, and I can feel a slight tremor in my hands as I clasp them tightly in my lap. “I’ve made AR visible to the naked eye.” August looks like he wants to say something, his mouth opening, but I just push out the rest before I lose my nerve. “And it’s gone. Someone must have found out and got into my apartment to steal it. This was the project of my life. And it’sgone.” My voice cracks on the last word. “Starting from scratch would take years, and it would be no use. Before I got back on track, the person who stole my project would have long ago brought it to the market, or another competitor would have. Not to mention that I used some resources from my company, which I can’t do again now they know about it. Or at least some colleagues up in the rank know about it. I don’t know if they would rat me out to keep me from it and…”
Why wouldn’t they?
They did worse.
August’s brow furrows deeper, his eyes searching my face. “Why did you tell them if you don’t trust them?”
“I didn’t,” I murmur. “They are the ones who watched me through my cameras.”
A heavy silence falls between us, thick with unspoken questions and growing unease. August’s face is a mask of concern, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface…suspicion?
“Amelia,” he says slowly, as if choosing each word with painstaking care. “Can’t you see it? They’re the ones who broke into your apartment and took it.”
“I—” I start, but the words die on my lips.
I want to dismiss it outright, to laugh it off as absurd, but a traitorous seed of doubt has already taken root in my mind when I saw their surveillance. Flashes of memories play through my thoughts like a grainy film reel.
Grey walking into my apartment like it was nothing to grab me for a walk.
Oliver standing in my bedroom out of nowhere when I was crying my eyes out.
I’m sure of what I’ve seen. I’m sure they were watching me. Using me for their project.
But hurting me to steal mine?
Would they really do that?
“No,” I say, but it comes out weak and uncertain, more a question than a statement. “They wouldn’t…” Even as I speak the words, the foundations of my trust crumble more beneath me. “I don’t know,” I admit, the weight of it cracking through me. “I don’t know anything anymore. It’s like the ground beneath my feet has turned to quicksand, and I’m sinking fast.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I blink rapidly to keep them at bay.
August stands, reaches out to grab my hand, and pulls me to stand in front of him, hugging me tightly. “They probably did,” he says softly, his words muffled against my hair. “And you’re probably right. You can’t go back. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay in this house and bury your dreams.”
“I would… I will,” I whisper, clinging to him like a lifeline. “For you.”
“And I don’t want you to,” he says firmly, pulling back to look me in the eye. “We’ll find a way, okay? Now I have you back, we’ll find a way.”
He’s right.
I can’t go back.
Not to them.
Every interaction, every shared moment, now feels tainted, viewed through a lens of suspicion and hurt.
The possibility of them stealing from me feels like a physical weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I want to deny it, to cling to what I thought we had, but the evidence seems damning.
And as I stand there in August’s arms, I feel simultaneously anchored and adrift.
“You ready for the dinner from hell?” he murmurs with a hint of humor in his voice as he lets go of me.
