chapter 2

The photograph lingered on her screen long after she set the phone aside.

Maya closed her eyes, and in that quiet moment, exhaustion turned certainty into doubt, and doubt into illusion.

By morning, the bruises on her face had faded slightly, but every part of her body still ached. Every movement reminded her of the attack.

Her phone buzzed shortly after she woke.

A message from Mr Victor.

“Take the week off. We’ll handle things here. Focus on recovering.”

Maya stared at the message for a long moment before setting the phone down.

“A week off…” she murmured.

She didn’t know what to do with it.

The photograph from the previous night drifted back into her mind.

The more she thought about it, the more foolish it seemed.

She convinced herself she would probably laugh at how much she had overreacted.

Other people could own similar jewelry.

There was nothing unusual about a bracelet.

Nothing at all.

Yet the fear in Cassie’s face lingered stubbornly in her thoughts.

Maya sat up and pressed a hand against her forehead.

“You’re tired,” she told herself quietly.

“That’s all.”

The room offered no response.

After getting dressed, she stepped out of her room.

The house was unusually quiet.

As she went down the staircase, she noticed Cassie arranging breakfast in the dining room.

The older woman immediately looked up.

“Good morning, Madam.”

Maya forced a small smile.

“Morning.”

Cassie’s gaze lingered on the fading bruises.

“How are you feeling today?”

“I’ve been better.”

Cassie opened her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but stopped herself.

Instead, she lowered her eyes.

“I made tea.”

“Thank you,” she said with a faint smile.

The conversation ended there.

Short.

Careful.

Almost awkward.

Maya suddenly found herself wondering when things had become this way.

She poured herself a cup but barely drank it.

Every time she closed her eyes, another memory pushed through—the unanswered calls, the lonely dinners, the missed anniversaries.

It felt as though he had always been too busy or too exhausted to notice how she felt.

The thought ruined the little appetite she had.

She stood.

“Madam?” Cassie called softly.

Maya paused.

“Yes?”

Cassie hesitated.

For a second, it seemed like she was about to say something important.

Then she shook her head.

“Nothing.”

Maya stared at her briefly before turning away.

The feeling followed her through the house.

She didn’t know where she was going.

Not until she found herself standing outside Will’s study.

The door wasn’t locked.

It never was.

She stood there for a moment.

Then she pushed it open.

For the first time in three years, Maya touched his belongings.

Will’s study was clean and orderly, a sharp contrast to hers, which was always occupied by newspapers and unfinished notes.

Her fingers brushed across the edge of the desk.

Everything was exactly where it should be.

Nothing looked out of place.

Nothing looked suspicious.

One of the desk drawers was slightly open, and a single sheet of paper caught her attention.

Maya frowned.

She told herself not to look at it.

Cause she believed it was none of her business.

She had never gone through his things before.

Why start now?

Yet her eyes kept drifting back to the paper.

A strange uneasiness settled in her chest.

The urge to find out what was written on it refused to leave.

Maya stepped closer.

“Just one look,” she told herself.

Nothing more.

She picked up the paper.

A few numbers and notes were written on it.

Nothing important.

Nothing was related to the incomplete photograph she saw.

Nothing clarified the strange feeling that had been following her since last night.

She was about to put it back when something slipped from beneath it.

A photograph.

It landed softly on the desk.

Maya frowned and picked it up.

The edges were slightly worn.

Old.

The moment she saw it, she recognized it.

A small smile almost appeared on her face.

Almost.

It was one of the few photographs she and Will had taken together.

He hated photographs.

She remembered teasing him about it that day.

“You look like someone forced you to be here.”

“And you look too happy about it,” he had replied.

The memory came back so clearly that Maya could almost hear his voice.

For a moment, the tightness in her chest eased.

Then she turned the photograph over.

There was a date jotted down on the back.

Maya stared at it.

Her smile slowly disappeared.

“No…”

She looked again.

The same date.

The same numbers.

Her brows knitted together.

That wasn’t right.

She remembered that day.

She remembered where they went.

She remembered what she wore.

She remembered arguing with him because he spent half the afternoon answering work calls.

“So why was the date wrong?”

Maya lowered herself into the chair.

Her eyes remained fixed on the back of the photograph.

The picture had been taken months before the date she remembered.

Months.

Not days.

Not weeks.

Months.

A strange uneasiness settled in her chest.

She turned the photograph over again.

Will’s expression hadn’t changed.

Neither had hers.

Only the date.

Maya swallowed.

Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about the bracelet anymore.

She wasn’t thinking about the woman in the photograph from last night either.

She was thinking about her own memory.

The certainty she had felt only seconds ago began to slip away.

Downstairs, she heard the front door open.

Then Cassie’s voice.

“Sir, you’re back.”

Maya froze.

Her grip tightened around the photograph.

Will wasn’t supposed to be home.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the house.

Slow.

Steady.

Getting closer.

Then his voice came from the hallway.

“Maya?”

Her heart skipped.

The photograph was still in her hand.