Time kept ticking, each second dragged out by the relentless clock on the office wall. The principal finally slipped into the room, and when the door creaked open, I saw him, a police officer beside the principal. He was younger than I expected, his build broad but neat, his short-cropped hair gave him a sharper edge.
My chest tightened. What the hell was I even doing here?
But then my eyes drifted back to the desk. Ophelia's photos. Files. Papers stacked with her name scrawled across the top. It was like a wave had just been dumped over me, drowning me, my brain spilled with thoughts I couldn't hold down.
Was she okay?
Why were her files here?
What was going on?
I wanted to believe I was wrong. That the dots I was connecting in my head weren't leading where I feared. That Ophelia's photo on the desk was just some coincidence, paperwork for something harmless. Anything but what my gut was screaming at me.
But then the woman in front of me leaned forward, her olive-green eyes fixed on mine once again like she was trying to pry me open.
"Good morning, Koa Takashi," she said evenly. "Thank you for coming in. I know this must feel like a lot, but we're just trying to understand what happened. That's all."
Her voice was calm, too calm, like a blade sheathed in velvet.
I froze. The words jammed in my ears, heavy and suffocating. What happened? My mind tripped over itself. What was she talking about? What was she implying?
"Wait… what?" The word clawed its way out of my throat before I could stop it. My voice cracked, sharp with disbelief.
She didn't answer right away. She just kept looking at me, like she was waiting for me to realize the truth on my own.
That silence was worse than anything she could have said.
She spoke again, her voice smooth but carrying a weight that pinned me in place.
"This morning at six a.m., Ophelia was reported missing. Her parents say they didn't find her in her bed."
The words dropped like stone into water, it rippled through every part of me.
"Since you're her fiancé, I assume you talk to her a lot."
I froze. Stunned. It was obvious, of course, they would start with me, the one closest to her supposedly, the one who should have answers. It was the perfect opening for their investigation, the first step in a trail that would either clear me or bury me alive which in this case it felt like both things were happening at the same time.
But my head couldn't keep up. Everything felt like it was spinning too fast, breaking apart like glass shattering on tile, pieces scattered in every direction, impossible to gather back. I could feel the cracks widening inside me, sharp edges pressed in.
What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say? How am I supposed to even react?
I opened my mouth, desperate for words, but my throat locked up, dry and tight. I knew I had rights, I knew I wasn't guilty, but the knowledge felt paper-thin compared to the crushing presence of her gaze.
"Do my parents know—" My voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
"Yes," she cut me off immediately, her tone sharp, it sliced through my words before I could finish. "They're aware. They know we're interrogating you right now."
The finality of it hit me like some time of judgment call.
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, subtle at first, then worse, as if my own body was betraying me. Why was I so afraid? I hadn't done anything. I knew I hadn't. But that didn't stop the dread crawling through my veins, didn't stop the silence pressing against my chest until breathing felt like a mistake.
"I… I talked to her last night," I stammered, my voice faltered in the stillness of the room. "Around ten. She… she was talking about a school project. I was just helping her finish it."
The words spilled out in broken pieces, fragile and unsure, as if they might collapse under the weight of her stare. I didn't even know if I was answering the question she wanted. I just needed to say something, anything, to stop the silence from swallowing me whole.
But it didn't help. The room only grew tighter, the air heavier. My thoughts tangled until I could barely hold onto them. It was too much, too much information, too much pressure, like a tide rising over my head while I was already sinking.
She fixed her gaze on me, and I felt my throat tighten. I swallowed hard, trying not to let it show.
"How exactly would you describe your relationship with Ophelia?" she asked at last, her tone calm but precise, like a scalpel finding the exact spot to cut.
I was stunned by the question, stunned by how casually she'd asked it as she reached for her coffee and sipped, her expression never shifting.
"I–I… we're okay. Um… we're fine," I stammered, forcing a shaky smile that didn't reach my eyes.
She didn't return it. Instead, her gaze sharpened slightly over the rim of her cup. "Did you even know about this?"
My eyes widened. "No. Not at all. I just—just found out…"
Her questions came like stones skipping across the water, each one faster than the last.
Her questions shifted suddenly, like she was digging beneath the surface on purpose, testing how far she could push me.
"You're quite young to already have a fiancée," she said, her tone cool but with a curious edge. "I doubt you've been together very long. Did your parents have a hand in arranging it?"
The words caught me off guard, and for a moment I just sat there, struggling to piece together a response. My mouth went dry. What did that have to do with Ophelia being missing? Why bring that up now? Was she trying to catch me in a lie, to corner me until I slipped?
I forced myself to answer, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be.
"…It's arranged," I said finally, my gaze flicking down, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her.
But the way she studied me, it was clear she wasn't done.
"If we check your phone or messages," she asked, leaning forward just slightly, "will we find anything… unusual?"
I froze. My mind blanked, and the air in my lungs turned to ice. What kind of question is that?
"I—I… uh… if you want to check it right now, you can." I blurted out, my voice cracking at the edges.
I pulled out my phone so quickly I nearly dropped it, unlocking it with fumbling fingers as if I were obeying some unspoken command. My whole body was trembling now, my hands, my shoulders, even my legs and I hated that she could see it.
I handed the phone over, already opening the messages with Ophelia as though to prove I had nothing to hide.
Something I knew for a fact: Ophelia and I weren't the type to text much. Our messages were plain, almost dry, quick reminders about homework, short goodnights. It was when we called each other that everything came alive: laughing about school, teasing over dumb things, talking until we fell asleep on the line. But I didn't explain any of that to her. I didn't say a word.
I just sat there, silent, watching her scroll through the messages. Her expression never changed, neutral, unreadable, as her eyes scanned the screen. Now and then her thumb paused, and I felt my heart stop with it. I couldn't tell what she was noting down in that small black notebook on her desk, but I imagined every pause was her finding some hidden meaning in words that had none.
She finally handed my phone back as calmly as she had taken it. No sigh, no raised brow, just that same infuriatingly neutral face.
I took the phone with both hands, trying not to let her see how badly they were shaking.
She reached into the inner pocket of her blazer and pulled out a small black card, sliding it across the desk toward me.
"If anything else comes to mind," she said in that same even tone, "please call me."
I reached for the card, trying not to let it slip through my fingers. My hands were still trembling, and the black cardstock felt heavier than it should have, like it carried a weight I wasn't ready to hold.
It read, in sharp white lettering:
Department of Investigation
Special Agent: Silvia Novikov
And below that, a single phone number.
So she wasn't just some school liaison, she was a detective. And a good one too. I could tell by the way she'd watched me earlier, the way her eyes followed every twitch in my expression like she could read the words I wasn't saying.
"Officer Dave," Silvia said, turning toward the man who'd been standing quietly beside the principal all this time. "Would you please make sure he gets to class?"
The officer smiled at me, friendly enough, almost too casual after the interrogation. He stepped aside and opened the door, his gesture was polite but leaving no room for argument.
I stood then slipped my phone into my pocket and gripped the card in my other hand like it was a medal I'd just earned, though it was anything but that.
As I stepped out of the room, I glanced back.
The door was closing slowly, inch by inch, and through the narrowing gap I caught the detective's eyes fixed on me. Her expression hadn't changed, it was calm and steady. However, her presence felt like a shadow that I couldn't shake off. There was something in the way she looked at me that I couldn't explain, something that made my skin crawl and my thoughts spiral.
The click of the door shutting pulled me back.
"So," Officer Dave said lightly, as if the tension of the room we'd just left didn't exist, "what class do you have next?"
"Uh… ELA," I replied, my voice rougher than I'd intended.
"Alright," he said with a smile. "I'll walk you to the hallway, you can head on your own from there. Is that okay?"
I nodded, grateful for his attempt at normalcy. At least this officer didn't feel like a noose tightening around my neck.
We walked down the hallway, but my mind kept drifting back to Ophelia. No matter how hard I try to focus on where I'm going, her name keeps circling in my head. It feels like everything is starting to splinter, like the ground beneath us is cracking bit by bit.
Yesterday was so ordinary. We talked, we laughed, we lingered after class as if we had all the time in the world. And now, it's as if that same world is slipping off a cliff edge, crumbling piece by piece while I'm forced to watch.
I keep my eyes down, staring at the wooden tiles beneath my shoes, trying to keep myself anchored. That's when the police officer beside me slows to a stop.
"Is this alright?" he asks.
I look up, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. "Oh… yeah. Thanks."
He smiles, an easy, genuine smile that feels strangely out of place after the morning we've had. For a second I just stare at him, surprised by how kind he seems. I manage a small smile back before he nods and heads down the hall, his footsteps fading into the buzz of the fluorescent lights.
I stared at the card, a chill settling in my chest. Dread clung to me, but I forced it aside and kept walking.
Down the hall, a figure drew my focus, Gabriel, walking with our social teacher toward the office. My stomach tightened. His face wasn't soft like usual; it carried the look he wore when something was about to break.
Just then, our paths crossed. It was just for a second, no longer than a heartbeat, but even that was enough. His eyes, they were darker and sharper than I'd ever seen them and they locked onto mine. The weight behind that stare was undeniable, in that moment I understood what he was thinking; he knew something was up.
Neither of us stopped walking and neither of us turned our heads to face the other. We walked past each other as though nothing had passed between us. However, his glance lingered in my mind, it stayed with me, heavy and unshakable. It carried more than words could even describe.
I managed to eventually make it to the classroom door. I knew I should've just walked in and played it cool, like nothing had happened. Like my girlfriend- no my fiancee was still here, not missing and potentially kidnapped... But something in me felt hesitant to enter and I just… froze. Great, what the hell was I even supposed to think right now? My head was buzzing with all sorts of things, like Gabriel's knowing gaze, the stupid card in my hand, the questions and more. Like seriously, how am I supposed to process all that? My brain was just done with it all.
I genuinely wanted to bury my face in someone's shoulder or even just into my pillow and scream. I usually never had my thoughts like that, I've been on edge since the morning and my frustration was piling up until it felt like too much. What the hell was wrong with me?
I forced out a deep breath, reminding myself that if I start losing it now, it wouldn't fix anything and that crashing out wasn't going to change a thing. My hand tightened on the door handle, the silvery metal felt cool against the palm of my hand. It creaked as I pushed the door open and the teacher was already mid-lecture, perfect. It was a distraction.
I slipped inside quietly and made my way to my seat beside Albien... My backpack landed on the floor with a soft thud, and I pulled out my notebook. I forced myself to focus, to look neat, to keep myself positive when I'm actually in a bad state of mind, that's usually Gabriel's role.
Albien twisted his head towards me, his expression was written with concern all over him. Perhaps it was the way I dropped into the chair like I was carrying too heavy of a weight on my back, or maybe it was even encoded in my body language. Albien reached his hand over to my shoulder and tapped it. "Hey… you ok?" He softly whispered, his voice barely above a mouse squeak.
In simple words, no, I wasn't okay and I doubt that I would be remotely okay for days. But, I didn't say that out loud to him. I couldn't just dump all of this onto Albien, not when it already felt like too much for me to hold.
He leaned closer, his voice keeping low. "Gabriel just got called to the office too… What's going on?"
I wanted to tell him everything. God, I wanted to. But, it would have been selfish to unload everything that had happened behind that closed door. So I decided to stay quiet for the time being. Albien gave me one last look, that soft, golden-retriever expression he always wore when he felt bad for someone, something between empathy and mourning. Then he turned his focus back to his paper.
I lowered my head onto the cold surface of the desk and I allowed my arms to wrap around myself as if they could shield me from this over bearing weight pressing down on my chest. My eyes slid shut, they felt heavy. For once it felt like sleep might actually come and take me away.
All I could think was how exhausting it all was. Exhausting, in a way that sank deeper than tiredness, a kind of ache that didn't let my mind go… With that, I let the world fade into a watercolor blur, the noise of the classroom fading into nothingness.
Gabriel Lorenzo Sanchez:
I'm walking with the social teacher, nodding like I care, but my brain's somewhere else. Koa. Always Koa because this stubborn jerk always has to get himself tangled into any type of trouble. He hasn't answered my text, just left me on seen. Who does that? It's like he's allergic to basic decency. And yeah, it pisses me off. I mean, at least lie and say you're busy, don't just hang me out there like an idiot.
Mr. Sullivan's whole lockdown speech is still ringing in my head, how we're not allowed to walk home starting today, how we're basically trapped until someone picks us up. The whole thing reeks of control, and if I'm unsettled, I know Koa's probably crawling out of his own skin.
Right then, I spot him.
He's down the hall, caught under the sickly buzz of the fluorescent lights, and yet he doesn't belong to it. Koa never does. He stands there like a misplaced figure in a painting, the kind you can't look away from even when it unsettles you.
His hair, light pink, glows too vividly against the flat greys of the hallway. It's the kind of color that refuses to be ignored, like it's daring the world to make sense of it. His eyes, grey, shifting with the light, never the same shade twice, move like they're alive on their own. Even when he's still, they betray him, restless, unsettled, unreadable to everyone else.
The thing with Koa is, he's not mysterious. People like to think he is, but please, I grew up with him. He's the most readable person I know. Every twitch, every sigh, every little slump in his shoulders, I've got memorized. And right now? He looks wrong. Too still. Too stiff. Like he's about to shatter if the air moves the wrong way.
I can already feel it, he's gearing up for some dramatic crash, and I'll be the one stuck catching him. Typical. I glance at him, quick, hoping he'll notice, but of course he doesn't and if he did he probably doesn't care. Figures. He probably thinks staring at a card is more important than answering me. I know he's tangled up in his own head, but a little acknowledgment wouldn't hurt. Maybe then I wouldn't be this irritated.
Although I'm still in the middle of complaining about Koa in my head when I look up and realize, great, I'm already at the front of the office. The social teacher gestures for me to sit, and I do, though the déjà vu hits me hard. Like I've done this exact dance before. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
"Hello, Gabriel. Come in," the principal calls.
I flash a polite smile. "Of course." Smooth, casual. But the second I step inside, I know something's off. The air's too heavy. There's a police officer posted by the side door, stiff as a statue. Interrogation vibes. I know them when I see them.
"Please go inside, sweetie. I'll be right with you."
I nod, like this is all normal. "Thanks." My voice is steady, easy. Inside, I'm already bracing.
I walk in, take a seat, and clock the woman waiting for me. One glance at the photo on her desk, Ophelia's face staring up, and it all makes sense. So that's what this is about.
No wonder Koa looked like some withered flowers.
I settle into the chair like I own it, cross one leg over the other, and meet the detective's eyes. She stares, I stare back. I let the silence hang, thick enough to choke on, and I don't move a muscle. If she's trying to measure me, she'll need a bigger ruler.
I can already tell what she's trying to do, the whole "I'll keep asking questions until he slips" routine. Classic. Does she think I'm that stupid or something? Maybe Koa would fall for it. He'd get nervous, start talking too much, and spill everything without realizing it. But me? No
If anything, she looks a little too eager, like she's already imagining her shiny commendation after I spill my guts. Ew. The only problem? I'm not giving her a damn thing. Not now, not ever. She can poke and prod all she wants, I'm not feeding into her little investigation or whatever delusions she wants to think, and I'm sure as hell not letting her make me a piece of it, because I'm not.
I wait until the principal comes back in with the officer, and that's when Detective Perfect-Posture finally decides to speak. She puts on her professional voice, smooth as glass, like she's narrating some documentary for my social studies class.
"Hello, Gabriel. I have some questions I'd like to ask you."
I raise one eyebrow, slow and deliberate. "I'm not speaking without a lawyer present."
I'm not just going to say whatever comes first. I need to figure out if this is just her "asking questions" or if I'm legitimately being interrogated.
"I'm not here to interrogate you," she says, hands clasped neatly together on the desk. "I just want to ask some questions, that's all."
Yeah, sure. The way she's holding herself, tight, controlled, rehearsed, it's enough to tell me she's already grilled someone else before me. Which means I'm not the main target here. Good to know.
"About what?" I ask flatly.
She leans in slightly. "I know you live with Koa, and you've been with them since you were four, right?"
So that's where she's going.
"Yeah?" I tilt my head, unimpressed. "Is there something about it?"
Her voice softens, but her eyes are sharp. "No, not at all. I just wanted to ask whether you know where Koa was last night… and if you know anything about his relationship with Opheli—"
This was getting way too predictable.
"If you're going to start asking me personal questions, I don't want to answer any." I push back my chair, already half-standing. I'm not forced to be here, and I know it. Especially if this isn't a formal interrogation.
That's when she drops it. "You do know Ophelia went missing, right? Especially after the warnings that were sent by your teacher this morning."
My stomach twists, but I don't let it show. I didn't want to admit it, but yeah, I knew. It was obvious the moment I saw her photo on the desk. Still, I kept my face blank and let the lie roll off my tongue.
"No," I said. "I didn't."
Then she hits me with it: "Do you know why Koa has an arranged marriage with Ophelia?"
I don't know why, but the question makes my blood boil, heat rising all the way to my core. My jaw tightens.
"No," I snap. "I have no idea."
The truth is, I really don't. Sometimes I wish I did but I don't and that frustrated me.
She closes her eyes like she's trying to look patient. "If anything comes up, please report it to me." Then she pulls out a card. I recognize it immediately, the same kind I saw Koa staring at earlier.
I'm already on my feet, so I take it without hesitation. "Sure."
Walking out is easy, no resistance, no weight. The principal catches me at the door. "Do you want the officer to escort you to class, honey?"
I flash her a smile. "No, I'm good. Thanks. Have a nice day."
"You too, sweetie."
I walk faster than I should, almost running to class, when the bell rings. I check the time, third period already. My phone buzzes as I glance down. A text from Albien:
"Can you wake Koa up? He's in ELA still… I think? He's sleeping and I didn't get a chance to wake him up. Room 202 just incase you forgot the room number which I doubt :3 Also got called to the office."
I can't say I'm shocked. Koa's been falling apart all morning, moving through the day like a storm cloud following him around.
Normally? If Ophelia were here, I'd just leave him to it. Chemistry matters, and I'm not missing class because he can't get out of bed. But today? No partner. No one to present the project with. Suddenly, rolling into class feels pointless.
I practically fly up the stairs, heart hammering, silently begging no teacher decides to appear and ruin my carefully maintained reputation. Room 202 comes into view. I pause for a beat, drawing a slow breath to steady myself, then slip inside, quiet as a shadow.
There he is. Koa, sprawled across the desk like he owns the place which he probably does, in his dream, sleeping with all the blissful ignorance of someone who doesn't care that the world is burning around him. I fight the urge to roll my eyes so hard they almost leave my skull.
I stalk over, crouch just above him, and flick his forehead sharply. "Wake up, idiot."
Koa jolts upright, chair scraping against the floor, his eyes wide and wild. He blinks at me like I'm some kind of monster. "Gabs?!" His voice is a mix of shock, confusion… and probably the faintest hint of panic.
I can't help the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. This man, this disaster of a human, is lucky I'm in a generous mood.
"I told you not to call me that at school. And seriously… why the hell didn't you reply to any of my messages?" I snap, maybe a little sharper than I intend, because yeah, I'm annoyed he left me on read. Even though I know I should just get over it.
He glances at me, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Maybe if you want me to reply, you shouldn't try flicking me in the head or banging on my desk," he mutters, clearly unimpressed by my presence.
I roll my eyes, sighing, trying to calm the tension bubbling between us. "Albien got called to the office too. Koa… what's going on?"
I can feel it, he's annoyed, maybe even a little defensive. And yeah, deep down, I care more than I want to admit. But right now, I push that aside. I need an answer not from anyone else but from koa himself.
"What… how would I know?!" he stammers.
Koa's lying. It's obvious, the way his hand trembles, the subtle inward arch of his brow.
I scoff. "Don't give me that, Koa. You know exactly what this is about… and what it means for us."
He snaps, voice rising, panic threading every word. "Why are you getting mad at me? I have no clue what's happening! I'm still trying to process what they told me!"
And just like that, he tells me everything I needed to know.
I take a breath and tone it down. Maybe I was being a little dramatic. I can tell by his expression that he means it.
"Sorry. I'm not mad at you, Koa. I'm just concerned."
He crosses his arms, snapping back. "Well, that's a good way to show it."
I hate that look he gives me, the mix of frustration and guilt. It always throws me off, a sharp reminder that Koa and I aren't on the same terms we used to be. I feel it in my chest, tight and uncomfortable, and I can't help but start getting nervous.
"The questions they asked me…" My voice came out before I could stop it, low and uneven. "They weren't about Ophelia. They were about you."
The second the words left my mouth, I froze. My chest went tight. Shit. I hadn't meant to say that out loud. I could feel the guilt hit me hard, like a punch to the stomach. Panic bubbled up, sharp and choking, and without thinking I reached out and grabbed Koa's hand.
"Koa… if there's something you need to tell me, I—"
I didn't get to finish. I knew the moment the words left my mouth that I'd messed up. This time, the idiot in the situation wasn't Koa, it was me. Well shit, how I looked like one too.
"Are you accusing me right now?" His voice was cold, almost trembling.
My eyes widened. My stomach dropped. I hated myself in that moment, my big mouth, my inability to keep my thoughts in. That wasn't what I meant. Not at all.
"No—no, I'm not," I said quickly, my words tumbling out. "I'm worried, that's all. I didn't mean…" I trailed off, guilt clawing at the back of my throat.
"Well, you can stop acting all worried, because it's not your problem to deal with Gabs."
Koa's glare hits me harder than I expect. Angry, sharp, like I crossed a line I didn't even see. Maybe he's right, it's his problem, not mine. But the thought twists in me, ugly and selfish, because I want it to be mine too. I want him to lean on me the way he used to, when it felt like the world was just the two of us and nothing else could touch us. Maybe I'm stuck in the past. Maybe I'm pathetic for even wanting that back.
"Yeah, I know," I mutter, voice rougher than I mean. "But doesn't this worry you? Doesn't it feel… wrong? Yesterday everything was fine, and now Ophelia's just gone. And they're asking me questions, like you had something to do with it, when I know you wouldn't. I know you, Koa."
The words spill out too fast, too raw. I hate how desperate I sound, like I'm begging him to say something, anything, to ease the weight pressing down on me.
But he doesn't. His jaw tightens, his eyes flick away, and he stays silent.