Carlos' POV
I woke up that morning to an unsettling silence.
Elena hadn't shown herself—not even once. No sarcastic remarks, no sudden appearances, no unnecessary commentary from the corners of the apartment. Nothing.
I searched the house out of habit, already knowing I wouldn't find her.
Was she still angry with me?
I got dressed and stood by the door longer than I needed to, half-expecting her to suddenly appear just to prove me wrong. When she didn't, I let out a breath and left.
Work came early, and so did another heavy case. A string of murders—women found assaulted and killed near the area where I lived. The details alone were enough to drain anyone.
"The latest victim was discovered near an abandoned factory," Luis said as he spread the photos across the table. "It's too far from the previous locations."
"Could be deliberate," Jenna replied. "The suspect might be trying to confuse us."
"Santiago?"
I blinked. "What?"
Jam nudged me. "You've been spacing out."
"Long night," I lied.
In truth, Elena had been sitting at the back of my mind all day. The silence she left behind was louder than any argument.
"Focus," Jenna muttered.
Jam leaned closer. "Thinking about a woman?"
I ignored him.
"Called it," he whispered smugly. "Is it Jessy?"
"Enough," I said sharply.
Time slipped by faster than expected. We skipped lunch, surviving on coffee and stale bread. By the time I left, the sky had already turned dark.
Rain came down hard, without warning.
I didn't bother finding shelter. I was already soaked when I spotted a familiar figure ahead—walking alone through the rain.
"Jessy?" I slowed my motorcycle beside her. "What are you doing out here?"
She looked up, surprised. "Carlos? I didn't know you lived around here."
"My place is close. What happened?"
"My car broke down. Can you take me home?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Get on."
Her directions matched the route to my apartment.
When the rain worsened, I stopped in front of my building.
"This storm's not safe," I said. "Let's wait it out."
"So… what do I do now?" she asked.
I looked up at my window and sighed.
"There's no other option. Come inside for now."
She smiled. "Thank you."
Inside, she apologized for the mess she was making, soaking wet on my couch. I handed her a towel and tried not to overthink how natural it felt—too natural.
"Do you live alone?" she asked casually.
"Yes," I answered, a little too quickly.
"And you don't have a girlfriend?"
I avoided her eyes. She noticed.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have asked."
I changed clothes and made coffee. The warmth filled the space between us, but something about the conversation felt… off.
"You've always been like this," she said. "Kind. I missed that."
She reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"I'm sorry for everything," she continued. "If I could go back—"
A crash echoed from the kitchen.
I went to check. A broken glass lay scattered on the floor, though I didn't remember leaving anything near the edge.
Then Jessy screamed.
She was shaking when I reached her.
"There was someone in the mirror," she whispered. "A girl. Watching me."
I checked. The mirror reflected only us.
The rain had stopped.
"I'll take you home," I said firmly.
She didn't stop talking about ghosts the entire way.
I didn't argue.
I knew better.
When I returned and opened the door, Elena stood waiting—arms crossed, eyes blazing.
"Why did you bring her here?" she demanded.
"So you were the one she saw," I said calmly. "Why?"
Her glare sharpened. "So now you're blaming me?"
"I'm asking."
"Why are you always angry with me?"
I laughed in disbelief. "Angry? You've been avoiding me since yesterday!"
She turned away. That was answer enough.
"Are you jealous?" I asked.
She froze.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Her reaction said everything.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
She looked at me in disbelief. "What?"
"I said I'm sorry."
Her eyes widened. "Say that again."
I scowled. "Forget it."
She laughed. "So you can apologize."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Maybe," she said, smiling.
That was my limit.
I walked into my room and slammed the door shut.