Chapter 5: What He Doesn't Know

There are two kinds of people in this world.

The ones who ask questions because they genuinely want answers, and the ones who ask questions because they already suspect the truth.

Max Holland belonged to the second kind.

I could tell.

Not from the questions themselves, but from the way he watched me afterward. He never looked satisfied with my answers. He listened to what I said, but he also paid attention to everything I left unsaid.

Most people don't notice silence.

Max did.

And that made him dangerous.

The next morning, I arrived on campus earlier than usual.

The hallway was still quiet, with only a few students walking around. I preferred it that way. Crowded places were exhausting. Too many voices, too many expressions, too many people trying to become interesting.

I walked toward my locker and stopped when I saw something taped to it.

A small white envelope.

No name.

No message on the outside.

I looked around.

Nobody was paying attention.

I pulled it down.

For a second, I considered opening it immediately.

Then I changed my mind.

I slipped it inside my bag.

There was no reason to be careless.

I continued toward the classroom as if nothing had happened.

"Dahlia."

I turned.

Max was walking toward me.

He looked tired.

Not physically.

Something else.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah." He stopped in front of me. "Did you get home safely last night?"

I nodded.

"Of course."

He stared at me.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I smiled.

"You say that a lot."

"So do you."

Touché.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but before he could, Sienna appeared behind him.

"Good morning!"

She looked at both of us.

"Why do you two always look like you're having a secret conversation?"

"We're not," I said.

Max smiled.

"Not yet."

Sienna's eyes widened.

I gave him a warning look.

He laughed.

We entered the classroom together.

Everything seemed normal, but the envelope in my bag felt heavier with every step.

I waited until lunch before opening it.

I went to an empty stairwell at the back of the building.

It was quiet there.

No cameras.

No students.

I sat on the third step and pulled the envelope from my bag.

Inside was a photograph.

I stared at it.

My fingers tightened around the paper.

It was old.

Very old.

The photograph showed a little girl standing beside a swimming pool.

Me.

I recognized the place immediately.

Our old house.

The house we had left years ago.

But I wasn't looking at myself.

I was looking at the person standing behind me.

Ava.

She was younger then.

Maybe eleven.

I was seven.

And in the corner of the photograph, barely visible, was another figure.

A man.

His face had been scratched out.

I turned the photograph over.

There was writing on the back.

Four words.

"I remember what happened."

I stared at the message.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt something close to fear.

Not because someone knew, because someone had proof.

I placed the photograph back inside the envelope.

Then I heard footsteps.

I immediately stood.

The stairwell door opened.

Max.

Of course.

He stopped when he saw me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thinking."

He looked at me.

"About?"

"Nothing."

His eyes dropped to my hand.

I was still holding the envelope.

"What's that?"

I smiled.

"Something personal."

He didn't ask again.

Instead, he stepped closer.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Dahlia."

His voice was quieter this time.

"You don't look fine."

I looked away.

That was a mistake.

Max noticed.

He always noticed.

"Someone sent you something?"

I looked back at him.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you're holding an envelope like you want to burn it."

I almost laughed.

"You pay too much attention."

"Maybe you give me too many reasons."

I didn't answer.

He stood there for a moment.

Then he reached into his pocket.

"I found something too."

My expression changed.

"What?"

He pulled out his phone and showed me a photograph.

It was a screenshot.

A news article.

The headline was about a girl who had disappeared three years ago.

I knew her.

Not personally.

But I knew her name.

Mia Bennett.

My eyes moved down the screen.

Missing.

No body found.

No suspect.

Case still open.

I looked at Max.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

He shook his head.

"I found it last night while looking through old articles."

"And?"

"And something about it felt familiar."

I remained silent.

He looked at me.

"Do you know her?"

"No."

It was the truth.

Technically.

I didn't know Mia Bennett.

I knew what happened to her.

That was different.

Max lowered his phone.

"Okay."

I smiled.

"That's it?"

"For now."

He turned to leave.

Then stopped.

"Dahlia."

"Yeah?"

"If you ever need help..." He hesitated. "You can tell me."

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, I nodded.

"Thank you."

He left.

I waited until the door closed.

Then I took the photograph from the envelope again.

I looked at the little girl in the picture.

Me.

Seven years old.

Standing beside a swimming pool.

And suddenly, I remembered something I'd spent years trying not to think about.

That night.

The screaming.

The water.

Ava crying.

And someone telling me to keep my mouth shut.

I closed my eyes.

The memory returned in pieces.

A hand.

A broken glass.

Blood.

Then silence.

I opened my eyes.

The stairwell was empty.

But I could still hear that voice in my head.

'I remember what happened.'

Someone knew.

Someone had always known.

That afternoon, I found Raven Lane waiting outside the university gates.

I had seen Raven around campus before, but we'd never spoken.

She was holding a notebook and talking to one of the security guards.

When she noticed me, her eyes followed me.

I walked past without stopping.

"Dahlia Gray?"

I paused.

Slowly, I turned.

"Yes?"

She smiled politely.

"I'm Raven Lane."

"I know."

"Do you?"

"You're always asking questions."

She laughed softly.

"Fair enough."

She stepped closer.

"I'm working on an article about some old cases in the area."

I waited.

"One of them involved a girl who disappeared three years ago."

Mia Bennett.

Again.

I kept my expression neutral.

"That's unfortunate."

"You knew her?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I smiled.

"Shouldn't you be asking people who actually knew her?"

"Maybe I am."

She held my gaze.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then she smiled.

"Have a good day, Dahlia."

I walked away.

I didn't look back, but I could feel her watching me.

Another person.

Another question.

Another pair of eyes getting too close.

This was becoming inconvenient.

That night, I went home earlier than usual.

Ava was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

She smiled when she saw me.

"You're home early."

"I'm tired."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

She handed me a plate.

"Sit."

I sat.

She started talking about her day.

I listened.

Or at least, I pretended to.

My mind was somewhere else.

The photograph.

Raven.

Max.

Mia Bennett.

And the memory I had buried years ago.

Then Ava said something that made me stop.

"Dahlia?"

I looked up.

"What?"

"I asked if you remember the old house."

My hand tightened around my fork.

"Why?"

"Mom mentioned it earlier."

I forced myself to relax.

"What about it?"

"She said she found some old things from there."

I stared at her.

"Where are they?"

"Some are in the attic."

I smiled.

"Okay."

Ava frowned.

"Why?"

"No reason."

She nodded.

I continued eating, but inside, something had already changed. Because I suddenly remembered what was hidden in that old house.

Something I thought was gone.

Something that could prove everything.

And if someone had found that photograph... Then maybe they had found the other thing too.

I looked at Ava.

She was still talking about something I wasn't listening to.

My sister.

The person who had protected me when we were children.

The person who had always believed I was innocent.

I wondered how she'd react if she finally remembered the truth.

Because Ava didn't know everything.

Not yet.

And maybe... That was the only thing keeping her safe.

I lowered my gaze.

For the first time that day, I smiled for real.

Not the sweet smile everyone knew.

Something colder.

Something quieter.

Someone was trying to uncover my past.

Fine.

Let them.

I had spent years hiding my secrets.

I could spend a lifetime protecting them. But whoever had sent that photograph had made one mistake.

They reminded me of something I had almost forgotten.

I wasn't the only person who knew what happened that night. And if I found them first... They wouldn't get the chance to tell anyone.