Pauline's POV
Arnold sat beside me in the corner of the cafeteria, his messenger bag carelessly dropped on the linoleum floor while he clutched his usual can of iced coffee. We had claimed a table in the back, away from the bustling crowd of students. Though it was only our first break of the day, exhaustion already weighed on my shoulders like a heavy blanket.
"You look completely drained," Arnold observed quietly, his concerned gaze studying my face.
"I am," I admitted, letting my cheek sink into my palm.
The fatigue ran deeper than what sleep could cure. For days now, I had been attempting to expose Mr. Sinclair and his suspicious activities. I shadowed him through the halls, documented his meetings, and listened in on conversations whenever I could manage it without detection. But every lead evaporated like morning mist. Each time I believed I had discovered something substantial, it dissolved between my fingers like sand.
