Caught Up In Between Mga Nobela at Kwento

Push. I feel a shove. I fall, losing my footing. Alex catches me mid-air, wraps me tight, and we crash down the stairs together. Roll. Hit. Scratch. Thud.

I looked back at the second phone. At the gap. At the messages around it. Then— I noticed something else. Not in the words. In the timing. Before the gap. Messages came instantly. After the gap. There was a slight delay. Not much. But enough. Like something had changed. Or slowed. “Not a break…” I whispered. “A disruption.” My fingers moved quickly now, scrolling up and down. Comparing. Checking. Confirming. It was real. The system lost control for a moment.

My trackpad finger went still. I dragged the cursor back up to the transition between late 2023 and early 2024. Kearls had highlighted a section in amber ink, attaching a bold red analytical flag beside the entry. I leaned closer to the screen, my breath catching violently in my throat. FLAGGED INCONSISTENCY — DATA GAP: Subject: Melowie Veyra. Duration: September 22, 2023 – March 22, 2024. Status: UNACCOUNTED. I re-read the lines three times, my eyes straining against the blue light.

I inquired once more. She hurriedly scooped up her laptop and said, "I guess I should leave." She walked away, turning around. Before I could cough, clear my throat, or do anything else to get her attention, the heel of one of her shoes caught along with the piping of the carpet, and she lost her balance. I made the two quick strides necessary for me to reach her just as she fell back into my arms. She gasped as she fell and collided with me. I carefully placed her on the floor so she could stand comfortably, then stepped back to allow her to turn around. I was expecting an emotion of embarrassment or gratitude, but instead I got one of irritation.

"I can see it, she is a handful Tom. Are you sure you want to give it a try? I can put in a good word for you we are friends now" She saw Tom's face light up before he cracked a wide, warm smile. They were stuck on the busy Westbrook evening traffic. "You're already seeing her aren't you?" "Am sorry, it's my fault I'm the one who was supposed to tell you..." "How long Tom?" "A month, it started when you send me to pick her up" "Okay"

I click the message bubble and the conversation opens. It reads: YOU’RE GETTING TOO CLOSE TO STERLING. STAY AWAY FROM HIM! HE’S DANGEROUS!!

"The guy whose butt you were admiring." "What?" Her smile was now replaced with a frown. She snatched her hand from his in a not so nice way and held it to her chest. "I'm so sorry about that day, I was dazed. I had hit my head and-" "It's okay." He cut her rapid talking short in between laughs. "My name is Tristan." "Maris." She replied quickly then squinted her eyes at him. "Where are your bunny like teeth?" She bent her head a little to look into his mouth and got a mental slap from her subconscious. She pulled her head back and cleared her throat.

He clearly said we had no time to make conversation and here I can't seem to stop asking unnecessary questions. "This is not the right time. Let go, I'll explain everything on the way," I tried to get up but immediately collapsed. I couldn't even stand on my own. James let out a sigh of frustration before crouching down and scooping me in his arms. My hands circled around his neck on their own to keep me from falling. *************

“You need to step back,I do not have time for this.” “You suddenly do not have time for me anymore? What a shame.” He clicked his tongue. “Well,I do have all the time in the world for you,baby girl.” His fingers tenderly brushed my chin and I swallowed hard. “I do have work and you do too,so you need to stop this right about now.” “Stop what?” He raised a brow. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.A very harmless conversation at that.There is really no need to get triggered.”

Deep down, I tried to understand the hidden layers of meaning behind Susan's words. I found myself grappling with the unexpected turn of events, as if the very fabric of our dynamic had momentarily shifted. It was as if, for a fleeting moment, Susan stood at my beck and call, her allegiance swaying away from Clyde. The notion, though seemingly implausible, whispered through the recesses of my thoughts, casting a subtle shadow of doubt on the intricate dynamics at play. "I-I apologize," Susan stammered, her voice faltering for a brief moment. It was a crack in her composed facade, a glimpse into the vulnerability that lay beneath her unyielding composure.