Of course. Here is the next chapter, with slightly simpler language.
The doubt was a small seed, but in the clean, quiet in the apartment, it had grown into a huge, tangled vine. A week had passed since their fight about the woman at the cafe. A week of Neo being perfectly, annoyingly, *normal*. He was sweet, charming, and always smiling. He brought her coffee every morning—it was still bad, but now the taste felt like a bad sign she couldn't figure out. He talked about work, about normal, boring things. No more secret phone calls. It was like a picture of a perfect, happy relationship.
And it was making Emma crazy.
Not finding anything suspicious didn't mean he was innocent. Her mind, armed with the solid memory of her past life, was screaming that something was wrong. What if he was just better at hiding it now? The memory of her death wasn't a bad dream; it was a real scar. She couldn't just forget it.
So, she took a bigger step. She bought spy cameras. It felt wrong and sneaky, but she felt she had no choice. A tiny camera that looked like a phone charger for his home office. A little microphone for under the seat of his car. She felt guilty when the packages arrived. This wasn't like her. But then again, was she still the same Emma who died in that alley?
Her chance came when Neo said he had a long, boring meeting all day. "You'll be happier here, my love. I'll be stuck in a room all day."
The second he left, the air in the apartment felt heavy. Her heart was pounding, a loud drum of fear and excitement.
Putting the cameras in place was terrifying. Every little noise made her jump. Her hands shook as she stuck the microphone in his car and placed the fake charger on his desk. Every minute felt like an hour.
But she did it. Now, the apartment was watching him. And so was she.
For days, she watched the feeds on a secret phone. It was mostly incredibly boring. She watched him pay bills, work on his computer, and once, she watched him try to kill a fly for twenty minutes. She listened to his car rides: him singing to the radio, calling coworkers about boring work stuff, arguing with himself about what kind of milk to buy.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
His life, now on display for her, seemed perfectly ordinary. There were no secret meetings, no scary phone calls. There was just… Neo. A normal, slightly fussy man.
The doubt wasn't a vine anymore; it was a huge tree, and its shadow was making her question everything. Had she made it all up? Was her mind, hurt from a past life, making up a story where her nice boyfriend was a monster because that was easier to understand than a random accident? The idea was tempting. It meant she could just be happy. She could let it all go.
She broke on a Thursday afternoon. She was watching him on the camera in his office. He was typing. He wrote something in a notebook, and then she saw him type those same letters and numbers into his laptop. A password ?. Her breath caught. This was her chance. Her final test.
That night, he texted her. *Running late, my love. Client dinner. Don't wait up. xx*
This was it.
She went to his home office. The silence felt like it was judging her. His laptop sat on the desk. She typed the password she had memorized.
The laptop unlocked.
She searched everywhere. She looked in documents folders—tax papers, work stuff, vacation photos. She checked his internet history—news, blogs, recipes. His email was locked. She tried the same password. It didn't work.
She leaned back in his chair, all the energy leaving her body. The tree of doubt had won. She was wrong. She had to be wrong. The memory was just a ghost. Neo was just a man. A man who loved her. A man she was spying on for no reason.
Tears filled her eyes. What was she doing? She got a second chance at life and was ruining it with paranoia. Maybe he *had* changed. Maybe in this life, he was different. Maybe the man who killed her before could love her now. The thought was scary but also exciting. It was a chance to live. To love. To let go of the past.
The key turned in the lock.
Panic shot through her. She quickly closed everything on the laptop, her fingers clumsy. She just managed to shut it as he walked in.
Neo came in, taking off his tie. He looked tired but smiled. "Emma? Hey. What are you doing here in the dark?"
Her voice came out too high. "Oh! Neo! Hi! Nothing, it's just... nothing." She stood up too fast. "I... my phone's broken again. I wanted to order food and thought I'd use your laptop. Hope that's okay?"
She watched his face, looking for any sign that he knew she was lying.
He just looked sweet. He walked over and held her face. His hands were warm. "You never have to ask. My home is your home. My laptop is your laptop." He kissed her forehead. "Whatever my love wants."
The kindness made her feel terrible. The guilt was too much. "Thank you," she whispered.
"I'm gonna go take a shower. That dinner was so long," he said, heading to the bedroom.
As soon as the bathroom door shut, Emma leaned on the desk, her legs weak. She had to stop this. She would tell him tomorrow. She'd say she was insecure after the cafe incident. She would ask for a new beginning.
Feeling determined, she decided to help. She'd hang up his suit jacket, which he'd thrown on a chair. It was a nice, normal thing to do.
She picked up the jacket. It smelled like his cologne. As she smoothed it, her fingers felt a piece of paper in the inside pocket. A receipt, maybe.
She pulled it out. It was a receipt. But not from a normal place.
It was from *The Lexington*, the fanciest hotel in the city. It was a lunch receipt for two. Expensive food, fancy champagne. The total cost was huge. The time was from today.
The world, which had just felt so safe and full of hope, fell away beneath her.
*Running late, my love. Client dinner.*
But this was a lunch receipt. A fancy, romantic, very expensive lunch for two.
The bathroom door opened. Neo came out in comfortable clothes, his hair wet. He looked relaxed.
"Emma, by the way," he said, his tone casual. "I tried calling you from the car. Your phone went to voicemail. And you didn't pick up when I called from the room earlier?"
Emma stared at him, the receipt crumpling in her tight fist. Her mind, which had been ready to believe him, was now screaming again. He was lying. He was so calm. He made up a story and was now checking it with a simple question.
She forced her face to look annoyed. "Oh, yeah. It's been messing up all day. Probably needs a new one." She held up the jacket, the receipt hidden in her hand. "Just hanging this up for you."
He smiled that easy smile that now made her feel cold, not happy. "You're the best. I'm exhausted. Coming to bed?"
"Yeah," she said, her voice quiet. "I just need some water."
She walked to the kitchen, her legs feeling numb. She heard him get into bed. She slowly opened the receipt, her eyes reading every word. The luxury, the feeling of it. *Client dinner?* This was no business meal.
Then she saw it. Written at the bottom, in the same nice handwriting she'd seen in his notebook, was a note.
*'Until next time. - J'*
Her whole world focused on that one letter. J.
Who was J? The woman from the cafe? Someone new? And why did that handwriting feel so familiar, like a memory she couldn't quite grab?
The doubt was gone. Burned away by this new proof. Neo was lying. He was hiding something big.
And Emma, standing in his perfect kitchen, holding the evidence in her shaking hand, knew with a cold certainty that her search for the truth wasn't over. It was only just beginning. And the danger was greater than ever.