The door clicked softly shut behind Sara and Julian. Silence pooled in the room. Paul remained seated on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was bracing himself. He didn't look up.
Simon gaze was fixed to window then back to Paul. Letting the sunlight from the big window frame his profile. For a moment, he just studied the boy.
"You've been quiet," Simon said at last, voice steady, calm, carrying weight without force.
Paul gave the faintest shrug, as if the words slid off his shoulders. "Didn't see the point. Everything's moving the way it should. No need to waste breath."
Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Sometimes staying quiet keeps you on the outside. You're here, but half the time it feels like you're not. You still with us, Paul?"
What type of stupid question is this?
Paul's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
Simon pulled out the small glass bottle. Inside are 2 tablets, white in colour. He placed them on the table between them. The glass caught the sunlight, gleaming faintly like an accusation.
"You've been sleeping?"
Paul didn't look up. "…Somewhat."
"You've been taking them?" Simon asked.
Paul's lips pressed thin. "…Yeah."
"Do they help?"
Paul shook his head once. "They stop the noise. But I still see it. Clear as day."
Simon exhaled slightly, switching gears of the conversation. "How about outside ? Varsha— have you interacted with her ?"
Paul leaned back slightly. "Not really. She's got her father's face but nothing like her brother. First thing she did was throw shade at me—like she knows who I am."
And you said?
"Shrugged it off. She won't figure me out. Not anytime soon. When she knows? She knows."
Any other individual who caught your eye?
He thought for quick second and a face of a girl started to materialise in his mind. She waved her hand at him. Smiling with the innocent look on her beautiful face.
"Yeah… there is someone I think."
Who ?
"A girl." He stopped for a second and thought. "Do I really have to mention that?" but guess nothing matters much. And continued. "Bit strange, maybe a screw loose, but… something about her sticks. I just play along."
So everything outside ?
"Yeah. Pretty normal as it should be."
Julian leaned against the wall, arms folded tight across his chest. The hallway clock ticked like it had nothing better to do.
"What's so important he couldn't say in front of us?" His voice had that sharp edge of irritation.
Sara sat down on the arm of a nearby chair, legs crossed. She gave him a look. Half amusement, half patience. "If it were that important, Simon would tell us. He doesn't waste words."
Julian's brow furrowed. "Yeah, but we're all in this together. Aren't we?? Or Simon just don't trust us enough ?"
Sara tilted her head, considering. Her tone stayed casual, but there was a flicker in her expression that betrayed thought. "Simon trusts us enough. But Paul…" She hesitated, then shrugged lightly. "Paul's a different case. He doesn't show his cards. Not to us. Not to anyone."
Julian raised a brow. "And you're fine with that?"
She doesn't know, dose she? Better she hears it from Paul… or Simon. Not me.
Sara let out a small exhale, shaking her head with a half-smile. "Still… he always carries something. Even if he acts like he doesn't."
Julian looked away, the words stabbing sharper than she knew. "Yeah," he muttered, "something like that."
Sara glanced at him again, her voice softening. "Sometimes I wonder what it'd take for him to actually talk. To stop acting like everything's just… background noise."
Julian huffed, masking his unease with a crooked grin. "If you ever get him to spill,
write a book. You'll make millions."
That earned him the faintest laugh from her, but the silence that followed was heavy, the kind that pressed on your chest. Sara exhaled, almost to herself: "Still… whatever it is, he shouldn't be carrying it alone. But somehow–" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind. You'll see."
Julian frowned, not fully satisfied, but said nothing.
Simon exhaled through his nose, heavy. He clasped his hands together, fingers laced.
"Paul. Look at me."
For a moment, Paul didn't move. Then, reluctantly, his eyes met Simon's.
"You remember anything new?" Simon asked. "Anything at all."
Paul hesitated. His throat bobbed. "….. Flashes. Crimson blood on the floor. They are laying dead. Body filled with stabs of knifes. Those two staring at me. Nothing solid but I'm sure, that's what happened."
Simon studied him, eyes narrowing slightly. He could feel the boy trembling under all that stillness. "Every piece matter. But Paul…" His tone hardened, firm but not unkind. "…I don't want you chasing this case. Not now. Not like this."
Paul's gaze flickered, a shadow of defiance in it. "You want me to sit out while you dig up my grave?"
Yes," Simon said, blunt. "I need you clear. You hear me, Stable?
Paul's lips curved into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Stable? You think I'll forget what I saw?"
Simon's jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch. He let the silence hang.
Paul looked away, toward the window, where sunlight bled faintly against the glass. His reflection stared back– calm, sharp-eyed, utterly detached. "I don't need stability, not now. Not until I find the truth."
"I know what you're thinking," Simon said. "That you're closer to it than anyone else. That you can handle it. But you can't. The more you go. The more it'll consume you. And I don't know if you will ever come back ."
Paul gave a humourless laugh under his breath. "If this's what it takes. I'll welcome it with open arms."
Simon leaned closer, voice low but steady, like steel wrapped in warmth. "Listen to me. Whatever happened back then, whatever you think you owe the past—it doesn't own you. Not unless you let it."
Paul finally looked back at him, eyes cool and unreadable. "Then what do you want me to do? Sleep? Forget? Act like none of this ever happened?"
The silence that followed was heavier than the words.
That's when Simon spoke like he always did when it mattered... calm, commanding, cutting through the air like steel. "Paul, listen to me. Your not alone in this. And this case isn't yours to carry. Not all of it. You step too far, and you'll fall apart. And if you fall, you'll drag the rest of us with you."
Simon exhaled, slow and heavy, realizing he hadn't convinced him at all.
Paul sat there like stone, hands locked together, gaze pinned to the floorboards. The sunlight caught in his hair, but his face stayed in shadow.
"Do you know why I keep telling you to stay out of this?" Simon asked at last.
Paul didn't answer. The silence stretched.
"Because I've seen many people walked the same road." Simon said, voice low. "And none of them came back alive."
"Alive." Paul gave the smallest twitch of a smile, humourless. "I'll see."
"Alive doesn't mean untouched." Simon's tone had iron in it now. "I've seen many people carried things I wouldn't wish on you. If I can spare you that weight, I will."
Paul shifted back into the sofa, shoulders curling slightly inward. He looked like someone listening only because he couldn't walk out.
Simon didn't relent. "You think being silent protects you. But silence builds walls, Paul. And the higher you build them, the harder they'll fall when they crack."
For a heartbeat, Paul's eyes flicked upward, met Simon's, then dropped again. A faint click of his tongue— barely there, almost lost to the room.
Simon noticed. He let it slide. Instead, he leaned back, letting the sunlight stretch long across the desk. His voice softened, carrying weight but not sharpness. "You're not as alone as you think. Remember that. Even when you don't want to."
Paul stayed silent.
Simon watched him for a long moment, then sat back, the authority in his voice returning. "Stay sharp. Stay steady. And let me handle what needs to be handled. That's not a request."
Paul's lips moved like he wanted to answer, but all that came out was a faint, tired: "…Tsk."
Simon caught it, a flicker of annoyance slipping through the boy's mask. But instead of rebuking him, Simon almost smiled. That little rebellion, however small, was proof Paul was still fighting.
Simon gave one last look at him before finally standing, his shadow falling over the boy like a shield. "That'll be all."
The door handle turned. A sliver of hallway light slipped into the office.
Paul didn't move.