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My mind wants to ask more. Why are you always there ? Why were you scared ?

But I don’t press further because the hesitation in her voice is enough. Instead I shift my attention elsewhere. “How about a game?”

“A game?” She repeats, confused.

“Intellectual,” I say. “If you win, I will leave you alone this year. No asking every day about the case. If I win… You work with me.”

She studies me, tilting her head at me. “Mister Caldwell, are you serious?”

“I am,” I reply, leaning on the desk, watching how her eyes track me, the faint lift of her brow, the way her hands curl harder inside her sleeve. “Pattern recognition and observation…you’re very good at this, but are you competitive?”

And for the first time today, her eyes lit up and she smiled. “I’m very competitive.”

She’s so close I notice the faint curl of her hair at the nape of her neck, the way her scar under her eye catches the light when she shifts. What a strange, intriguing and stubborn creature she makes.

“Game on,” she says finally.

“All I had to do was provoke you to consider it as an option?”

“Should’ve done it sooner, Mister Caldwell.” She turns and walks toward the door, and continues, “Where and when?”

I smile, looking at her, “Tonight at the library, be there at midnight.”

“Noted,” she says before disappearing.

Tonight, midnight.

29

Mireya

Play - Do I Wanna Know By Arctic Monkeys

Just Between Us

I stand in front of my bedroom door a little too long, my palm on the handle, Blue circling my legs again as if he senses something's wrong, that I'm anxious about this game.

“This is stupid…” I murmur. My cat looks at me as if he disagrees. “I’m leaving now, don't do anything stupid, I love you.”

He meows once, as if to tell me he loves me too, or maybe I'm just crazy, but I take it that way.

I sigh, open the door a crack... then stop again. If I lose, I lose. There's no going back, no excuses, I'll have to go along with it and take on even more responsibility.

Why am I even thinking about this? About this whole thing, I mean. Young girls who have never had justice, and a guilty man walking free… It infuriates me. If I lose, I'll be tied to him, to his case; to something I can't control, and right now, control is all I have left.

My fingers tighten on the handle, then I release.

“Stay there, Blue,” I murmur, gently pushing my cat back inside before closing the door behind me.

The hallway is quiet; there are only a few people brave enough to be out partying at this hour on a weekday. I walk through the empty corridors, the rooms plunged into darkness, the windows reflecting my image, tense, a little withdrawn, already too involved for my liking for someone who hasn't yet accepted anything.

The library is open when I arrive, so I push the door gently. The light is weak, the main room empty. No one's at the reception desk, which isn't surprising given the time.

I step forward, trying to see where he might be, but I can't see anything. I walk between the shelves, my fingers gliding over the books and then⁠—

“Are you stressed already?”

I freeze and turn around slowly. He's here, leaning against the shelf behind me, as if he'd always been there, as if he'd watched me come in.