A Friend's Warning

I read the message at least five times.

Unknown: Some people don't approach you because they like you. Sometimes they have other reasons.

It wasn't the first strange message I'd received, but this one felt different.

Perhaps because it had arrived shortly after my afternoon with Ethan.

Or perhaps because Damien's warning suddenly made more sense than I wanted it to.

Maya leaned over my shoulder.

“Have you told Damien?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

I locked my phone.

“Because I don't want him turning this into another investigation involving people from his past.”

“Ava, someone is clearly watching what you do.”

“I know.”

“Then you should tell him.”

I sighed.

“I will.”

Maya gave me a knowing look.

“And you should probably be careful with that Ethan guy.”

I turned toward her.

“Not you too.”

“I'm not saying he's suspicious. I'm saying you barely know him.”

“He's been perfectly nice.”

“I'm sure he has. Just don't rush into trusting him because he bought you coffee.”

I stared at her.

“First of all, he bought me two muffins.”

She laughed.

“I'm glad we're focusing on the important details.”

Despite her teasing, her words stayed with me.

---

The following afternoon, I arrived at Damien's apartment carrying a small bag of pastries.

He opened the door before I could knock twice.

“Look who's finally here.”

“Don't sound so excited. You'll make me feel special.”

“You already think you're special.”

I walked past him.

“Good. At least one of us has excellent judgment.”

He laughed and closed the door.

His apartment was unusually tidy. The cushions were arranged, the kitchen counter was clean, and even the shoes near the entrance had been lined up.

I stopped in the living room.

“Who are you?”

He frowned.

“What?”

“Where's Damien? Because this place looks like someone threatened you with a cleaning inspection.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I cleaned.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

“Should I call someone?”

He took the pastry bag from my hand.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime.”

I followed him into the kitchen.

“So, what do you need my excellent judgment for?”

He placed the pastries on the counter.

“I need help choosing something.”

“An outfit?”

“No.”

“A new car?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then I'm out of ideas.”

He took a folder from the kitchen table and handed it to me.

I opened it.

Inside were several printed photographs and a few documents.

I looked up.

“What is this?”

“Something I received yesterday.”

I examined the photographs.

They showed the exterior of a building, a parking lot, and a woman entering a black car.

I recognized her immediately.

The woman from outside the restaurant.

My stomach tightened.

“Who is she?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out.”

I looked at another photograph.

“Where did you get these?”

“Someone sent them to me.”

“Anonymously?”

He nodded.

I turned another page.

There was a photograph of the same woman standing outside an office building. The picture was slightly blurry, but her face was visible enough to recognize.

“Is this connected to Natalie?”

“I don't know.”

“Damien, you keep saying that.”

“Because I genuinely don't know, Ava.”

I looked at him.

He seemed tired.

Not physically, but in the way someone looked when they had been carrying a problem for too long.

I lowered the folder.

“Have you considered telling me everything about that night?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I've told you what happened.”

“You told me about missing documents and Natalie. You haven't explained why someone is suddenly interested in it again.”

He looked away.

“Because I don't have the full answer.”

“Then who does?”

“I don't know.”

I exhaled.

“Your favorite answer.”

He gave me a small smile.

“I know.”

I returned my attention to the photographs.

“Do you think this woman is following you?”

“Possibly.”

“Or watching me?”

His expression hardened.

“That's what worries me.”

I looked up.

“Why would anyone be interested in me?”

“I don't know, Ava. But I don't want you getting caught in something you don't understand.”

I placed the photographs on the table.

“Then stop keeping me in the dark.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

“I'll try.”

It wasn't the answer I wanted, but it was something.

---

We spent the next hour examining the photographs.

Damien showed me the dates and locations written on the back of each one.

The oldest was from three weeks earlier.

The newest had been taken outside the restaurant on Friday night.

I frowned.

“Whoever took these has been following you for a while.”

“That's what it looks like.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?”

“I didn't want to alarm you.”

I gave him a flat look.

“Congratulations. It didn't work.”

He laughed softly.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

“It's Marcus.”

He answered and walked toward the balcony.

I remained at the table, examining the documents.

A few minutes later, I heard his voice rise.

“No. I told you not to contact her.”

I looked up.

There was a pause.

“I don't care what you heard. Just leave her out of this.”

Another pause.

“Marcus, listen to me. Nobody should be approaching Ava.”

My fingers stopped moving.

He ended the call shortly afterward and returned.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

I stared at him.

“Damien.”

He sighed.

“Marcus heard something from someone who knows Natalie. He thinks she might have returned.”

My eyes widened.

“Natalie?”

“It's only a possibility.”

I leaned back.

“Why would she come back after all these years?”

“That's what I intend to find out.”

I looked at the photographs again.

“Do you think she sent them?”

“I don't know.”

I shook my head.

“You really need to start collecting better answers.”

He smiled, but it disappeared quickly.

“I'm trying, Ava.”

I believed him.

That was the frustrating part.

I knew Damien was hiding something, but I also knew he wasn't careless with the people he loved.

And whatever was happening seemed to frighten him more than he wanted to admit.

---

Later, we ordered lunch and moved to the living room.

Damien turned on a movie, but neither of us paid much attention.

I was scrolling through my phone when Ethan's name appeared.

Ethan: How's your Sunday going?

I smiled slightly.

Me: Pretty quiet. How about yours?

Ethan: I was hoping to make it less quiet.

Me: Should I be concerned?

Ethan: Only if you dislike good company.

I laughed.

Damien glanced at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He looked at my phone.

“Ethan?”

I lowered it.

“Are you monitoring my messages now?”

“No.”

“Then stop looking over my shoulder.”

He raised both hands.

“Fine.”

I typed a reply.

Me: I'll consider it.

Ethan: I'll take that as progress.

I put my phone down.

Damien stared at the television.

“Do you like him?”

I turned toward him.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I'm curious.”

I smiled.

“Maybe.”

He nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

I waited.

That was it?

No teasing. No sarcastic remark. No unnecessary lecture.

Just okay.

“You're being strangely mature about this,” I said.

He glanced at me.

“Would you prefer I behave like a jealous idiot?”

I laughed.

“Honestly? It would be entertaining.”

He shook his head.

“You're impossible.”

“And yet you keep me around.”

“Unfortunately.”

I threw a cushion at him.

He caught it, laughing.

For a few minutes, everything felt normal again.

Then his phone vibrated.

He checked the screen, and his expression changed.

“What is it?” I asked.

He turned the phone toward himself.

“Nothing.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“That's becoming your favorite word.”

He didn't answer.

Instead, he stood and walked toward the kitchen.

I watched him go.

Something told me the message had something to do with the photographs.

And I was getting tired of being the last person to know anything.

---

I left Damien's apartment shortly after five.

He walked me to the door and reminded me to call when I got home.

“I know,” I said. “You've said it about twelve times.”

“Thirteen, actually.”

“Goodbye, Damien.”

He smiled.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

I stepped outside.

Before I reached my car, my phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

I stopped walking.

Unknown: You should ask Damien why Natalie disappeared.

My stomach tightened.

Another message followed.

Unknown: He knows more than he's telling you.

I looked back toward the apartment building.

For a moment, I considered going upstairs and demanding an explanation.

Instead, I took a screenshot and sent it to Damien.

His reply came almost immediately.

Damien: Don't respond. I'm coming down.

I waited beside my car.

Less than two minutes later, he appeared.

He looked at my phone, then at me.

“Did you receive anything else?”

“No. Just those two.”

He read the messages again.

His jaw tightened.

“Ava, I need you to listen to me.”

I folded my arms.

“I'm listening.”

“Whatever you hear about Natalie, don't believe everything immediately.”

I stared at him.

“Then tell me what I should believe.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

And that silence told me more than his words could have.

I stepped back.

“You keep asking me to trust you, Damien, but you won't give me a reason to understand what's happening.”

His expression softened.

“I know.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

He looked at me.

“Give me a little more time.”

I wanted to argue.

I wanted to demand every detail he had been keeping from me.

But I was tired.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “But not forever.”

He nodded.

“Not forever.”

I got into my car and drove away.

For the first time since this whole arrangement began, I wasn't sure whether Damien's silence was protecting me or protecting himself.

And somewhere in the middle of that uncertainty was a woman named Natalie.

A woman whose disappearance seemed to be the beginning of everything.