Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Jeremy, what’s going on?" Mira's voice cut through the fog in my head. We were supposed to be restocking at the café, but I had been staring at the same box for ten minutes. My hands rested on the flaps, unmoving, as if opening it required strength I didn’t have.

I forced a laugh, but by the look in her eyes, I could tell how worried she was. Her brows pinched together, and she tilted her head like she always did when she caught me lying. If anyone could see through me, it was her. And I hated that I couldn’t tell her the truth.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat.

"Fine?" She set the box down with a thud and she crossed her arms. "You’re pale Jeremy, you barely eat, and you’ve been zoning out every five minutes. That’s not fine or is that your definition of fine?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for the right words that wouldn't make her think that I was lying. "I didn't sleep much."

She frowned, her gaze softened, but she didn't let go of the issue. "You always say that. You’ve been saying that for days now. Jeremy, if something’s wrong, I need you to let me know. Please."

"Jeremy I need you to know that you can talk to me whenever you have issues, I'm always here to listen."

The plea in her voice cracked something inside me. Mira wasn’t just a friend. She was my anchor, the only person who had been there for me through my hard times. And here I was, feeding her scraps of half-truths because the real story sounded like a nightmare.

If I told her, she’d just pity me and I don't want that.

So I swallowed down the words I would have said. Again.

“I’ll be okay,” I muttered, avoiding her eyes.

Mira studied me for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re lying. But fine. Keep your secrets. Just remember, I’m here, even if you don’t want me to be.”

Her words lingered as we worked. She passed me cups, I wiped down counters, but the silence between us said more than anything. Mira wasn’t the type to let things go, but she now gave me space. It was almost worse than her questions.

By the time the last customer left and we started closing up, the weight of what I had to say pressed down on me harder than ever. The letter from the Andersons was still sitting on my desk at home, but I could feel it in my pocket like it had followed me here. Every step, every breath, it was there, reminding me of the truth, that my life wasn't mine anymore.

"Mira," I said quietly as she wiped down the last table.

She glanced up, her eyes softening when they landed on me. "Yeah?"

The words tangled in my throat. How do you tell your best friend that you’re leaving without telling them why? I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

"I… I think I’m going away for a while."

Her expression hardened and the cloth stilled in her hand. "What?"

I forced myself to keep my gaze steady. "Something came up. I’ll have to leave town soon."

Her mouth parted in shock, then closed again. She set the cloth down and walked closer, searching my face like the answer might be written there. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

She shook her head slowly. "When are you leaving? How long will you be gone?"

I hesitated. "I'll be leaving in a few days and I don't know how long I'll be gone for."

Mira’s face crumpled, not with tears, but with a mix of frustration and hurt that she tried to hide. "So you just drop this on me now? Jeremy, what the hell is going on? You expect me to believe you’re suddenly leaving for no reason?"

"I can’t explain." My voice was rough, my throat burning. "Not now."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "You don’t trust me."

"That’s not it." I stepped closer, desperate for her to understand without me saying it. "I do trust you, Mira. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted. But this..." I stopped, swallowing hard. "This isn’t something I can drag you into."

She stared at me like doing that would make her see the truth I was trying so hard to hide. Her chest rose and fell, uneven. "You’re scared."

The truth of her words was something I couldn’t deny.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I am."

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she reached out and touched my arm. Just a light brush of her fingers, but it comforted me in a way. It was a type of comfort that I had been longing for. "If you won’t tell me, then at least promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise me you’ll come back." Her voice cracked at the end, and she blinked fast, like she refused to let herself cry.

The promise caught in my throat. I didn’t know if I could keep it. I didn’t know what awaited me on the other side of that wax-sealed letter. But looking at her, my only real friend, the only person who’d been there for me in my hard times. I nodded.

"I promise."

She searched my face one last time, then let out a shaky laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "You better not be lying about this too."

I tried to smile, but it came out broken. "I’ll do my best."

We finished closing the café in silence. Every sound, the squeak of the mop, the click of the lights going out, felt like a countdown.

When I stepped outside, the night air was hard and cold. Across the street, I noticed the black car was still there, its engine idling softly.

Watching. Waiting.

My promise to Mira already felt like it was slipping through my fingers.