Dear Diary,
As I sit here trying to piece together the whirlwind of emotions and secrets from today, I can’t help but wonder how one conversation or chance encounter can shift everything we think we know about love and loyalty. It began when Ethan invited me to dinner at an elegant Italian restaurant right in the center of London. Yet as I stepped out of the house, Professor Grace stopped me in my tracks.
“They say only a diamond can cut a diamond,” she remarked in that mysterious way of hers.
“Excuse me? I don’t follow,” I replied, puzzled.
“You’re still young,” she smiled gently. “Trust me, people don’t fall in love just once in a lifetime.”
“Professor Grace, I promise nothing is going on between Ethan and me.”
“Perhaps not yet. But that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. Don’t shut your heart away, Emily. Life has a way of surprising usand sometimes the greatest joys arrive when we least expect them.”
“Did you ever…?” I ventured.
“Well, Uncle Henry wasn’t my first love,” Professor Grace answered evenly, with a flicker of old memories in her gaze. “There was someone else I cared for deeply once. I believed I wouldn’t survive the parting, that I couldn’t draw breath without him. Then Uncle Henry appeared, and everything turned around. I found real happiness. That’s why I urge youdon’t close yourself off. Love might be nearer than you realize.”
“I always assumed Uncle Henry was your first love…”
“Neither he was mine, nor I his. But I can tell you this: you never forget your first love.”
I sighed softly, thanked her for the talk, and headed to the car waiting outside where Ethan sat.
Right after I departed, Aunt Victoria appeared on the veranda. She fixed Professor Grace with a chilly smile.
“Have you decided to step in as Emily’s new mother? Guiding her on romance, sharing tales you’ve never told me.”
“I did it for Emma,” Professor Grace responded without any hesitation. “Because only one thing can truly divide Emily and Edward for good.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Emily’s love for someone else,” she said steadily, yet with resolve.
As I reflect now, her words carry a weight that makes me question the lengths people go to for family protection.
I later learned that Lily, crushed after her talk with Henry, wandered aimlessly down the middle of a London street. Her face looked drained of color, her eyes vacantshe seemed blind to everything around her.
She failed to spot the car speeding toward her.
A screech of tires. A collision.
Shouts rang out as someone rang for an ambulance.
Lily lay still on the pavement while bystanders clustered nearby. One woman bent down, searching for a pulse.
“Miss, can you hear me? Hello?”
No reply came. Lily remained motionless.
The terror of that instant still chills me when I think about how quickly life can pivot.
Then there was Catherine, approaching a clearing in the woodland where David waited amid the shadows between the trees. His outline merged with the gloom, though his stare felt cold and demanding.
“I have two million pounds here,” she stated icily, passing him a leather bag packed with cash.
I discovered that Margaret had trailed Catherine from the house with fierce determination. Now concealed in thick undergrowth just ten meters off, she watched in shock.
“David… and the money… That’s my money!” she murmured, fighting to steady her feelings. Watching David tally the notes, fury sparked in her eyes. “The nerve of it…” She drew out her phone and began filming the scene from cover.
David finished counting and offered a menacing grin.
“That’s everything. Will you leave us be now?” Catherine asked, strain evident in her tone.
A crack from a snapped twig broke the quiet.
David spun around at once.
“Did you hear that? Someone’s here. I said come alone!”
“I did come alone!” Catherine answered tensely. “No one came with me, I swear.”
David remained unconvinced. He edged toward the sound. A few steps later he parted the branchesand spotted Margaret clutching her phone.
Anger blazed in his eyes as he pulled a knife from his pocket.
“So we’ve got a spy…” he said frostily. “When you’re this nosy, you can land in real trouble.”
Margaret backed away, barely holding her hands steady.
“David, leave her,” Catherine snapped. “Don’t be a fool.”
“Show me what’s in your bag,” he ordered Margaret.
“Leave me be!” she protested.
“Tell me! Why are you here?!” Catherine cut in.
“What’s happening here?! What are you two up to?!” Margaret erupted. “I’m recording all of this! I’m calling the police straight away!”
“We’re not up to anything!” Catherine yelled. “He was blackmailing me! He threatened to kill Henry and Amelia. That’s why I paid him!”
Margaret reached into her bag for the phone.
“I’ll ring the police now and explain what’s going on.”
“DON’T YOU DARE!” David roared, lifting the knife. “Or I’ll kill you!”
“HELP! SOMEBODY!” Margaret screamed, trying to run.
“DAVID, GET A GRIP!” Catherine shouted, hurrying over.
But he had lost all control. He shoved Catherine hard enough that she tumbled to the ground.
He fixed his wild eyes on Margaret, who shook with terror.
“I’ll begin with you,” he snarled. “Then Henry will show up. He’ll find you soaked in blood. And I’ll finish him too!”
David raised the knife to strike. Margaret cried out, shielding herself. The blade drew close, yet she seized his wrist in time. They grappled fiercely over every motion and breath. Shouts, labored gasps, the strain building…
In a sudden twist, Margaret jerked hardthe blade reversed in their locked grip and drove straight into David’s chest.
He went rigid. Shock spread across his face, then a twist of agony. A choking sound escaped him, as if words were stuck, but none came. He dropped like a broken string.
Catherine stood frozen. She moved closer, pressing two trembling fingers to his neck. Quiet fell.
“He’s… dead,” she whispered, white as chalk. “Dead…”
“Oh God… OH GOD!” Margaret burst out. “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t meant to happen! It was an accident!” She clutched her head, spiraling into panic. “Call an ambulance! Maybe he’s still breathing! DO SOMETHING!”
“Quiet!” Catherine hissed, seizing her shoulders and shaking her. “Stop yelling like that! Do you want the whole world to know?! Do you want prison?!”
“Prison?!” Margaret sobbed. “But it wasn’t deliberate… You saw me defend myself! I’m no killer!”
“The truth won’t matter!” Catherine stared hard at her. “The police won’t buy it! And if word gets out… folks will say Henry’s mother is a murderer!”
“I AM NO MURDERER!” Margaret cried out desperately. “Ambulance! Police! We must act!”
“Mrs. Margaret, please…” Catherine’s voice grew urgent but steady. “Compose yourself. No one needs to hear of this. Nothing occurred. Understand? NOTHING. OCCURRED.”
“But he’s… he’s right there…” Margaret quivered all over.
“We can’t aid him now. Yet you can still aid yourself. Come. He’s gone. We live. And that’s what counts.”
Catherine wrapped her arms around her tightly, as if willing the world to stay intact. She guided Margaret slowly through the thick woodland, far from the grim spot. Behind them, among the leaves, David’s body rested unmoving. His hand still clutched the knife.
The secret the woodland claimed may stay buried forever. As I turn this over in my mind, the burden of hidden truths feels overwhelming, and I question what people endure to keep them safe.
Later I heard that Henry, summoned by a frantic call from Amelia, rushed into the house gasping for air. He halted in the doorway upon seeing her with a suitcase by the entrance. Her face was ashen, eyes damp, yet her expression set.
“I’m going,” she said softly, pressing a brief, nearly silent kiss to his cheek. “I won’t intrude on you or your mother any longer. Goodbye, Henry. Be happy.”
“Amelia, what are you saying?” he stared in disbelief. “What has this to do with my mother?”
“She knows… about that night. About all that passed between us.”
Henry looked aside, running a hand through his hair and rubbing his neck.
“What on earth… How did she learn?”
“She read the letter I left the day I… took those pills.”
“Hold on,” his brows drew together. “Yet you claimed it wasn’t a suicide try…”
“I said it to spare you. I didn’t want you fretting. But your mother won’t have me. She fears you’ll wed me. And… she offered us money. Me and my mother. For my departure.”
Henry gaped at her, stunned.
“What?! She gave you MONEY?”
“Yes. But we turned it down. I’d never take it. So now… I’m leaving. It’ll be easier for everyone.”
“Amelia, you’re not going anywhere,” he seized the suitcase and set it aside. “I won’t permit it. I won’t let you slip from my life.”
“I have no choice, Henry. Can’t you see? My mother knows it all now too. She said I’d wrecked my life and… she’d sooner die than hear it. If we don’t marry, she won’t leave you be. And your mother despises me. Aunt Margaret regards me as something unclean. No one wants me here. My leaving is the sole path to peace for all of you.”
Henry stepped nearer and met her eyes directly.
“Amelia… I won’t abandon you. We’ll sort it out. Your mother will settle, mine as well. She’ll adjust eventually. We’ll get through.”
“Henry…” she breathed, a trace of hope lighting her eyes. “So… we’ll marry?”
Silence hung heavy. Amelia watched him anxiously, as though her fate hinged on this instant and this reply.
Henry clasped her hand. And in Amelia’s thoughtslike a vision in daylightrang the words she ached to hear. Words she’d dreamed of nightly, held close in her heart, that offered her hope:
“After that night I couldn’t put you from my mind. I fell for you, Amelia. You’re in my thoughts, in my heart. I see you everywhere. I love you. Marry me. Be my wife.”
Yet that was mere fancy. The true Henry beside her spoke none of it. His voice, when it came, sounded distant and flat:
“Of course we won’t marry, Amelia. We can’t. That… will never occur.”
The quiet afterward cut deeper than any shouts. Amelia dropped her gaze, tightened her lips, and reached for the suitcase with deliberate care. Her stillness conveyed more than tears ever could.
It aches to consider the pain she must carry, and how unspoken feelings can leave such scars.
Edward stood off to one side, speaking on the phone with Thomas. At the same time Emma leaned against the car, also on a call, her tone strained as her eyes darted to every shift Edward made.
“Mum, tell me honestly,” she said with worry. “Edward’s been on the phone nonstop. It’s Emily, right? Is he in touch with her?”
“No, love. Emily was with me all along. I heard nothing about her speaking to anyone,” her mother replied calmly from the other end.
“Mum, if you’re only trying to settle me…”
“For heaven’s sake, it’s the truth! Emily went off with Ethan to the new Italian restaurant. I proposed it to them myself.”
A crafty smile crossed Emma’s face, faint but satisfied. She ended the call and at once wore her most radiant grin. When Edward returned to the car, she said brightly:
“Darling, I’m suddenly famished. I fancy spaghetti! I heard a new Italian place opened near home. Shall we try it?”
Edward glanced at her, taken aback.
“But you said you steer clear of carbs like poison. That they’re harmful.”
“Oh, darling, bodies sometimes need ‘carb refueling,’ didn’t you realize?” she chuckled softly, touching her belly. “Anyway… the moment I mentioned ‘spaghetti,’ the baby stirred! I think she fancies it too.”
She held his gaze as if daring him. And behind her smile lay more than hungerit hinted at a game she meant to see through.
As I mull this over, it strikes me how cleverly some weave plans to hold on to what they want.
Ethan and I reached the elegant restaurant. We hadn’t stepped inside before a courteous waiter approached and bowed to Ethan with a smile.
“Welcome again, Mr. Ethan. Your usual table awaits.”
I lifted my brows in surprise.
“So you’ve been here before?”
“I come often with the boss,” Ethan replied lightly, though his eyes drifted aside.
“I thought you might be the boss,” I observed with a small smile. “Given that greeting…”
“Perhaps because I always handle the tips. The boss skips such details. That’s why I’m better… remembered here.”
We took seats at a quiet table. Ethan stole a glance at my neck. The necklace on my collarbone gleamed under the lamps. He needed it. An exact copy already sat in his jacket pocket. He just required the right chance to swap them.
“Emily, hold on… Your necklace has shifted. It’s about to drop.”
He rose, came behind me, and set his hands lightly on my shoulders to reach the clasp. He aimed to stay composed, yet his heart raced quicker.
Just then the doors opened and Edward with Emma walked in. Emma smiled in triumphthey couldn’t have timed it better. Edward stopped short. Seeing Ethan so near me, touching my neck, stirred a surge of jealousy and rage in him.
The necklace slid free and hit the floor. Ethan moved for it, but Edward beat him to it. He snatched it up and held it tight.
“The necklace stays with me,” he said curtly, eyes locked on Ethan.
“What? Why?” I asked, startled, rising from my seat.
Edward pulled a photo from his pocket, one he’d taken from Ethan’s house. He laid it on the table before me.
“Because you were correct,” he said evenly, though tension edged his voice. “This is the necklace belonging to the girl who killed Rose.”
I bent over the picture. It showed a blonde woman with her face neatly removed. Around her neck hung the same necklace I’d worn.
“It’s… it’s identical!” I whispered, stunned. “But why cut out her face?”
“I don’t know,” Edward answered, meeting my eyes. “But this I do: that woman was in the car when my sister died. And someone is desperate to conceal who she was.”
Quiet settled like a gathering storm. Ethan stayed silent, yet unease showed on his face. And I gazed at the photo, trying to grasp what I’d been pulled into.
Looking back, I see how one small item can unravel layers of hidden pain and deceit.
Finally, Lily began to stir in her hospital bed. Under the fluorescent lights she squinted. A doctor leaned in, softly parting her eyelids and shining a torch at her pupils.
“What’s your name, my dear?” he asked calmly, though strain showed in his tone.
Lily glanced about. Her eyes roamed the room as if seeing it anew.
“I… I don’t know,” she answered, disoriented and breathing hard. “Where am I?”
“What day is today?” the doctor pressed.
Lily frowned, shut her eyes as if chasing a key memory.
“Tuesday…? No, wait… perhaps Sunday?” She sat upright. “Oh God! I must get to the market! My sister will be home from school and hungry. Please, let me out! I need to be back before night!”
She tried to rise, but the doctor and nurse held her gently yet firmly, guiding her back down.
“Steady, you’re safe.” The doctor kept his voice kind. “Tell me, what year is it?”
“Year?” Lily attempted a reply, but her face contorted with pain and fear. “Two thousand twenty? No… two thousand nineteen? God, I can’t recall!” She gripped her head, tears rising. “I remember nothing! But I know I must return to the village. I have to gather mushrooms. Mum and my sister wait for me… They’re hungry. Let me go, I beg!”
Her voice cracked, despair filling her eyes. The doctor exchanged a brief look with the nurse before saying quietly:
“I’ll reach Professor Thompson in the psychiatric unit. We must address her state at once.”
“Right away, doctor,” the nurse said. “I’ll administer a sedative.”
“Gently now,” the doctor added, watching Lily with care. “She’s not pretending. She’s adrift. And terribly afraid.”
As I close this entry, my thoughts linger on Lily’s confusion and the tangled lives around us. These moments leave me pondering the surprises love brings, the weight of unspoken pasts, and how fragile our hold on the present can be.Dear Diary,
As I sit here trying to piece together the whirlwind of emotions and secrets from today, I can’t help but wonder how one conversation or chance encounter can shift everything we think we know about love and loyalty. It began when Ethan invited me to dinner at an elegant Italian restaurant right in the center of London. Yet as I stepped out of the house, Professor Grace stopped me in my tracks.
“They say only a diamond can cut a diamond,” she remarked in that mysterious way of hers.
“Excuse me? I don’t follow,” I replied, puzzled.
“You’re still young,” she smiled gently. “Trust me, people don’t fall in love just once in a lifetime.”
“Professor Grace, I promise nothing is going on between Ethan and me.”
“Perhaps not yet. But that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. Don’t shut your heart away, Emily. Life has a way of surprising usand sometimes the greatest joys arrive when we least expect them.”
“Did you ever…?” I ventured.
“Well, Uncle Henry wasn’t my first love,” Professor Grace answered evenly, with a flicker of old memories in her gaze. “There was someone else I cared for deeply once. I believed I wouldn’t survive the parting, that I couldn’t draw breath without him. Then Uncle Henry appeared, and everything turned around. I found real happiness. That’s why I urge youdon’t close yourself off. Love might be nearer than you realize.”
“I always assumed Uncle Henry was your first love…”
“Neither he was mine, nor I his. But I can tell you this: you never forget your first love.”
I sighed softly, thanked her for the talk, and headed to the car waiting outside where Ethan sat.
Right after I departed, Aunt Victoria appeared on the veranda. She fixed Professor Grace with a chilly smile.
“Have you decided to step in as Emily’s new mother? Guiding her on romance, sharing tales you’ve never told me.”
“I did it for Emma,” Professor Grace responded without any hesitation. “Because only one thing can truly divide Emily and Edward for good.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Emily’s love for someone else,” she said steadily, yet with resolve.
As I reflect now, her words carry a weight that makes me question the lengths people go to for family protection.
I later learned that Lily, crushed after her talk with Henry, wandered aimlessly down the middle of a London street. Her face looked drained of color, her eyes vacantshe seemed blind to everything around her.
She failed to spot the car speeding toward her.
A screech of tires. A collision.
Shouts rang out as someone rang for an ambulance.
Lily lay still on the pavement while bystanders clustered nearby. One woman bent down, searching for a pulse.
“Miss, can you hear me? Hello?”
No reply came. Lily remained motionless.
The terror of that instant still chills me when I think about how quickly life can pivot.
Then there was Catherine, approaching a clearing in the woodland where David waited amid the shadows between the trees. His outline merged with the gloom, though his stare felt cold and demanding.
“I have two million pounds here,” she stated icily, passing him a leather bag packed with cash.
I discovered that Margaret had trailed Catherine from the house with fierce determination. Now concealed in thick undergrowth just ten meters off, she watched in shock.
“David… and the money… That’s my money!” she murmured, fighting to steady her feelings. Watching David tally the notes, fury sparked in her eyes. “The nerve of it…” She drew out her phone and began filming the scene from cover.
David finished counting and offered a menacing grin.
“That’s everything. Will you leave us be now?” Catherine asked, strain evident in her tone.
A crack from a snapped twig broke the quiet.
David spun around at once.
“Did you hear that? Someone’s here. I said come alone!”
“I did come alone!” Catherine answered tensely. “No one came with me, I swear.”
David remained unconvinced. He edged toward the sound. A few steps later he parted the branchesand spotted Margaret clutching her phone.
Anger blazed in his eyes as he pulled a knife from his pocket.
“So we’ve got a spy…” he said frostily. “When you’re this nosy, you can land in real trouble.”
Margaret backed away, barely holding her hands steady.
“David, leave her,” Catherine snapped. “Don’t be a fool.”
“Show me what’s in your bag,” he ordered Margaret.
“Leave me be!” she protested.
“Tell me! Why are you here?!” Catherine cut in.
“What’s happening here?! What are you two up to?!” Margaret erupted. “I’m recording all of this! I’m calling the police straight away!”
“We’re not up to anything!” Catherine yelled. “He was blackmailing me! He threatened to kill Henry and Amelia. That’s why I paid him!”
Margaret reached into her bag for the phone.
“I’ll ring the police now and explain what’s going on.”
“DON’T YOU DARE!” David roared, lifting the knife. “Or I’ll kill you!”
“HELP! SOMEBODY!” Margaret screamed, trying to run.
“DAVID, GET A GRIP!” Catherine shouted, hurrying over.
But he had lost all control. He shoved Catherine hard enough that she tumbled to the ground.
He fixed his wild eyes on Margaret, who shook with terror.
“I’ll begin with you,” he snarled. “Then Henry will show up. He’ll find you soaked in blood. And I’ll finish him too!”
David raised the knife to strike. Margaret cried out, shielding herself. The blade drew close, yet she seized his wrist in time. They grappled fiercely over every motion and breath. Shouts, labored gasps, the strain building…
In a sudden twist, Margaret jerked hardthe blade reversed in their locked grip and drove straight into David’s chest.
He went rigid. Shock spread across his face, then a twist of agony. A choking sound escaped him, as if words were stuck, but none came. He dropped like a broken string.
Catherine stood frozen. She moved closer, pressing two trembling fingers to his neck. Quiet fell.
“He’s… dead,” she whispered, white as chalk. “Dead…”
“Oh God… OH GOD!” Margaret burst out. “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t meant to happen! It was an accident!” She clutched her head, spiraling into panic. “Call an ambulance! Maybe he’s still breathing! DO SOMETHING!”
“Quiet!” Catherine hissed, seizing her shoulders and shaking her. “Stop yelling like that! Do you want the whole world to know?! Do you want prison?!”
“Prison?!” Margaret sobbed. “But it wasn’t deliberate… You saw me defend myself! I’m no killer!”
“The truth won’t matter!” Catherine stared hard at her. “The police won’t buy it! And if word gets out… folks will say Henry’s mother is a murderer!”
“I AM NO MURDERER!” Margaret cried out desperately. “Ambulance! Police! We must act!”
“Mrs. Margaret, please…” Catherine’s voice grew urgent but steady. “Compose yourself. No one needs to hear of this. Nothing occurred. Understand? NOTHING. OCCURRED.”
“But he’s… he’s right there…” Margaret quivered all over.
“We can’t aid him now. Yet you can still aid yourself. Come. He’s gone. We live. And that’s what counts.”
Catherine wrapped her arms around her tightly, as if willing the world to stay intact. She guided Margaret slowly through the thick woodland, far from the grim spot. Behind them, among the leaves, David’s body rested unmoving. His hand still clutched the knife.
The secret the woodland claimed may stay buried forever. As I turn this over in my mind, the burden of hidden truths feels overwhelming, and I question what people endure to keep them safe.
Later I heard that Henry, summoned by a frantic call from Amelia, rushed into the house gasping for air. He halted in the doorway upon seeing her with a suitcase by the entrance. Her face was ashen, eyes damp, yet her expression set.
“I’m going,” she said softly, pressing a brief, nearly silent kiss to his cheek. “I won’t intrude on you or your mother any longer. Goodbye, Henry. Be happy.”
“Amelia, what are you saying?” he stared in disbelief. “What has this to do with my mother?”
“She knows… about that night. About all that passed between us.”
Henry looked aside, running a hand through his hair and rubbing his neck.
“What on earth… How did she learn?”
“She read the letter I left the day I… took those pills.”
“Hold on,” his brows drew together. “Yet you claimed it wasn’t a suicide try…”
“I said it to spare you. I didn’t want you fretting. But your mother won’t have me. She fears you’ll wed me. And… she offered us money. Me and my mother. For my departure.”
Henry gaped at her, stunned.
“What?! She gave you MONEY?”
“Yes. But we turned it down. I’d never take it. So now… I’m leaving. It’ll be easier for everyone.”
“Amelia, you’re not going anywhere,” he seized the suitcase and set it aside. “I won’t permit it. I won’t let you slip from my life.”
“I have no choice, Henry. Can’t you see? My mother knows it all now too. She said I’d wrecked my life and… she’d sooner die than hear it. If we don’t marry, she won’t leave you be. And your mother despises me. Aunt Margaret regards me as something unclean. No one wants me here. My leaving is the sole path to peace for all of you.”
Henry stepped nearer and met her eyes directly.
“Amelia… I won’t abandon you. We’ll sort it out. Your mother will settle, mine as well. She’ll adjust eventually. We’ll get through.”
“Henry…” she breathed, a trace of hope lighting her eyes. “So… we’ll marry?”
Silence hung heavy. Amelia watched him anxiously, as though her fate hinged on this instant and this reply.
Henry clasped her hand. And in Amelia’s thoughtslike a vision in daylightrang the words she ached to hear. Words she’d dreamed of nightly, held close in her heart, that offered her hope:
“After that night I couldn’t put you from my mind. I fell for you, Amelia. You’re in my thoughts, in my heart. I see you everywhere. I love you. Marry me. Be my wife.”
Yet that was mere fancy. The true Henry beside her spoke none of it. His voice, when it came, sounded distant and flat:
“Of course we won’t marry, Amelia. We can’t. That… will never occur.”
The quiet afterward cut deeper than any shouts. Amelia dropped her gaze, tightened her lips, and reached for the suitcase with deliberate care. Her stillness conveyed more than tears ever could.
It aches to consider the pain she must carry, and how unspoken feelings can leave such scars.
Edward stood off to one side, speaking on the phone with Thomas. At the same time Emma leaned against the car, also on a call, her tone strained as her eyes darted to every shift Edward made.
“Mum, tell me honestly,” she said with worry. “Edward’s been on the phone nonstop. It’s Emily, right? Is he in touch with her?”
“No, love. Emily was with me all along. I heard nothing about her speaking to anyone,” her mother replied calmly from the other end.
“Mum, if you’re only trying to settle me…”
“For heaven’s sake, it’s the truth! Emily went off with Ethan to the new Italian restaurant. I proposed it to them myself.”
A crafty smile crossed Emma’s face, faint but satisfied. She ended the call and at once wore her most radiant grin. When Edward returned to the car, she said brightly:
“Darling, I’m suddenly famished. I fancy spaghetti! I heard a new Italian place opened near home. Shall we try it?”
Edward glanced at her, taken aback.
“But you said you steer clear of carbs like poison. That they’re harmful.”
“Oh, darling, bodies sometimes need ‘carb refueling,’ didn’t you realize?” she chuckled softly, touching her belly. “Anyway… the moment I mentioned ‘spaghetti,’ the baby stirred! I think she fancies it too.”
She held his gaze as if daring him. And behind her smile lay more than hungerit hinted at a game she meant to see through.
As I mull this over, it strikes me how cleverly some weave plans to hold on to what they want.
Ethan and I reached the elegant restaurant. We hadn’t stepped inside before a courteous waiter approached and bowed to Ethan with a smile.
“Welcome again, Mr. Ethan. Your usual table awaits.”
I lifted my brows in surprise.
“So you’ve been here before?”
“I come often with the boss,” Ethan replied lightly, though his eyes drifted aside.
“I thought you might be the boss,” I observed with a small smile. “Given that greeting…”
“Perhaps because I always handle the tips. The boss skips such details. That’s why I’m better… remembered here.”
We took seats at a quiet table. Ethan stole a glance at my neck. The necklace on my collarbone gleamed under the lamps. He needed it. An exact copy already sat in his jacket pocket. He just required the right chance to swap them.
“Emily, hold on… Your necklace has shifted. It’s about to drop.”
He rose, came behind me, and set his hands lightly on my shoulders to reach the clasp. He aimed to stay composed, yet his heart raced quicker.
Just then the doors opened and Edward with Emma walked in. Emma smiled in triumphthey couldn’t have timed it better. Edward stopped short. Seeing Ethan so near me, touching my neck, stirred a surge of jealousy and rage in him.
The necklace slid free and hit the floor. Ethan moved for it, but Edward beat him to it. He snatched it up and held it tight.
“The necklace stays with me,” he said curtly, eyes locked on Ethan.
“What? Why?” I asked, startled, rising from my seat.
Edward pulled a photo from his pocket, one he’d taken from Ethan’s house. He laid it on the table before me.
“Because you were correct,” he said evenly, though tension edged his voice. “This is the necklace belonging to the girl who killed Rose.”
I bent over the picture. It showed a blonde woman with her face neatly removed. Around her neck hung the same necklace I’d worn.
“It’s… it’s identical!” I whispered, stunned. “But why cut out her face?”
“I don’t know,” Edward answered, meeting my eyes. “But this I do: that woman was in the car when my sister died. And someone is desperate to conceal who she was.”
Quiet settled like a gathering storm. Ethan stayed silent, yet unease showed on his face. And I gazed at the photo, trying to grasp what I’d been pulled into.
Looking back, I see how one small item can unravel layers of hidden pain and deceit.
Finally, Lily began to stir in her hospital bed. Under the fluorescent lights she squinted. A doctor leaned in, softly parting her eyelids and shining a torch at her pupils.
“What’s your name, my dear?” he asked calmly, though strain showed in his tone.
Lily glanced about. Her eyes roamed the room as if seeing it anew.
“I… I don’t know,” she answered, disoriented and breathing hard. “Where am I?”
“What day is today?” the doctor pressed.
Lily frowned, shut her eyes as if chasing a key memory.
“Tuesday…? No, wait… perhaps Sunday?” She sat upright. “Oh God! I must get to the market! My sister will be home from school and hungry. Please, let me out! I need to be back before night!”
She tried to rise, but the doctor and nurse held her gently yet firmly, guiding her back down.
“Steady, you’re safe.” The doctor kept his voice kind. “Tell me, what year is it?”
“Year?” Lily attempted a reply, but her face contorted with pain and fear. “Two thousand twenty? No… two thousand nineteen? God, I can’t recall!” She gripped her head, tears rising. “I remember nothing! But I know I must return to the village. I have to gather mushrooms. Mum and my sister wait for me… They’re hungry. Let me go, I beg!”
Her voice cracked, despair filling her eyes. The doctor exchanged a brief look with the nurse before saying quietly:
“I’ll reach Professor Thompson in the psychiatric unit. We must address her state at once.”
“Right away, doctor,” the nurse said. “I’ll administer a sedative.”
“Gently now,” the doctor added, watching Lily with care. “She’s not pretending. She’s adrift. And terribly afraid.”
As I close this entry, my thoughts linger on Lily’s confusion and the tangled lives around us. These moments leave me pondering the surprises love brings, the weight of unspoken pasts, and how fragile our hold on the present can be.
