CHAPTER SIX

Mira

The sharp ringing of my phone woke me up. I rubbed my fingers across my eyes and blinked at who could be calling at such an hour. I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table—it was past three in the morning. I needed sleep. I had drunk a lot alone yesterday. The screen only displayed numbers, no name. I was skeptical about answering such a call, but I did anyway, just like yesterday.

“Hello… Anyone?”

My throat felt suddenly dry. I had an eerie feeling because I could clearly hear the rustling of things from the other end. The silence was deliberate. I kept my mouth shut. It was the only wise thing I could do. The other end went quiet, the rustling had stopped. I felt anxious and distraught. I sat up waiting, waiting for a sound, but it was too quiet. Then I heard a sharp breath before the line went dead.

What just happened? I quickly checked and saw it was the same number that had called me the previous day. This wasn’t a client—business could wait. I suddenly felt apprehensive. It was like the kind of trap I had watched in movies—or maybe I was overthinking.

I got out of bed and groped my way to the kitchen, deliberately leaving the lights off. I chugged a whole bottle of water on the spot, my throat parched, my head aching. The pounding reminded me of the previous day: the calmness and serenity I’d had dining alone before an unwanted stranger sauntered over to my table. Men. They always had a perfect tongue. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, so I smiled and responded politely. That gave him the boldness to hand me his business card with a request for my call. I tossed it in the trash as I left. I wouldn’t be another of his victims.

I was still lost in bitter thoughts about men when I clearly heard the faint sound of an engine starting. I froze. It was only three in the morning. I knew every corner of my house, so I gathered my shaky thoughts and moved fast to the sitting room. Carefully, I pulled open a small part of the curtain. Across the road, a black minivan was parked, its engine running. There was no way to see who was inside, so I waited. Time passed before it finally rolled down the road and out of sight.

I went back to my room. Lying in bed, I stared at nothing. The darkness pressed in, but my mind stayed on the call until I drifted back to sleep.

By the afternoon, I lay lazily on my bed, tapping at my phone while nibbling on some cheese. It was Sunday, and I needed to plan for my week. Laura and her new-found man, Baxter, had a movie date this evening, so I avoided calling to interrupt her. Baxter… what a name. A clear warning.

I called home minutes after waking and learned from my mom that my little sister had brought home her fiancé. I was shocked. How had our bond grown so distant? She had kept me in the dark about her six-month relationship, now about to end in marriage. After I dropped my mom’s call, I dialed Lizzy straight away, though hesitantly. She gave reasons that weren’t concrete, and I felt she simply wanted more privacy in her life.

Lizzy had always been an open book. Everyone knew what was going on in her life in detail. She expressed herself completely to family and friends, and we all had contributions to make—especially during her teenage years. Now, she offered no real explanation. She didn’t explain why she kept this secret, and I didn’t press further. She was a grown-up. But marriage? What made Lizzy feel she was ready?

I wanted to pry, to ask about her fiancé, but I knew better. Instead, I imagined my little sister tying the knot, and I smiled, baffled by the feeling. I cared deeply for my siblings, but maybe I cared too much this time. She knew what she wanted, and besides, my parents were overjoyed. I was sure everyone else already knew and had accepted him.

I had a strained relationship with my parents—my dad especially—but over time, it had extended to my siblings. Their calls became less frequent, their tones more distant. I had obligations as the eldest, but I wasn’t fulfilling any. I was supposed to be the big sister they looked up to, but I had given them a wrong picture.

I pushed family matters aside and focused on my laptop, meticulously planning my week. After deciding to separate myself from men, I resolved to make life more enjoyable. For years, my life had revolved around work and relationships, but after being taught life’s hardest lessons, I wanted to explore the many treasures within me. I knew they existed, though dormant, waiting to be tapped.

I had barely written two points after much reflection when my phone buzzed repeatedly. Notifications from work. Messages were flooding into Gigs’ employee group page, mostly about the big ongoing project. I set aside my laptop to check. Nothing major—just replies to Bernard. I scrolled absentmindedly, then something caught my eye. Scrolling back, I saw it.

Ken had replied to the chat I’d dropped Thursday, where I informed the team that I was done with the designs.

“Bravo, Miss Mira.”

What is wrong with this man? Was he haunting me? He was lucky he hadn’t said that to my face.

Suddenly, I remembered the pending Voughan offer. Tossing onto my back, I stared at the ceiling. I wanted this—really wanted it. The experience of a whole new life. I would be happiest if I got selected.

Yes, I was satisfied being at Gigs. My life there was complete: a good social circle, a man I could smile with once upon a time. But lately, I had silently withdrawn. I craved more—more success at work, a bigger platform. I knew my abilities, and Gigs wasn’t the place to soar. There was no competition, no measure of my true depth. At Voughan, I would be challenged, driven, forced to give more. With my attention solely on work, I would excel…

The doorbell rang.

That could only be Laura. I had no friends, no one else who checked on me at home. She should have called before coming, but maybe she was here to bore me with Baxter’s endless surprises. I had been there—it was always so at the start.

I opened the door without hesitation. The smile on my face slowly dropped.

“Good afternoon. You should be Miss Mira. This is for you.”

It was a delivery man. He extended a red paper bag toward me.

“What’s going on?” My mind spun with possibilities.

“Excuse me?” I stepped outside, embarrassed to still be in pajamas.

“Are you Mira Osborne?”

“Yes.”

“Someone ordered this for you.” He held out the bag again.

I stood awkwardly in silence, my thoughts racing.

“Please, sign here.” He brought out a slip.

“This came from who?”

“A surprise, miss.” He smiled knowingly.

The awkwardness stretched too long. I signed quickly just to end it.

“Thanks.” He handed me the bag and left.

“This is odd.” It had to be Laura. Only she would pull a stunt like this.

I unboxed it in the sitting room. Whatever it was had been carefully wrapped. Beneath the layers was a red box. My hands grew shaky, but I shrugged off the doubt. I opened it.

A silver necklace rested inside, shimmering under the light. My breath caught. This was no small trinket—it was worth quite a lot. Definitely not Laura. I had only ever received gifts this luxurious from one person: Henry.

The box was large enough to hold both the necklace and a small note. I opened it.

You are worth more… Dear Mira.

Could it be Henry? Our relationship had ended months ago. He wasn’t one for games like this. My thoughts scattered, running through every possible person, but none seemed capable. The only explanation was a secret admirer.

I picked up the delicate piece. It looked even more iridescent in my hand, astonishingly beautiful. Once, I would have loved it. But not anymore—not after Henry’s saga.

Beautiful things were only a surface.

I sat quietly, necklace in hand, reading the note over again. It was typed, not handwritten, and I wondered why. I placed it back in the box, alongside the note. I didn’t know what to do with it, but I knew one thing: I wasn’t wearing it. Whoever this secret admirer was, I was sorry to burst his bubble before he had a chance.

But deep down, I felt perturbed. Watched. Noticed. Followed. It was as if I were exposed, even though my life was meant to be peaceful, quiet, and private. Whoever sent this gift had my address, and that thought unsettled me.