Sapphire.

Chapter Eleven

SAPPHIRE'S POV

"So, have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?" Zaara asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yes, I have! It's the idea that small actions can have large consequences, right?"

"Exactly!" Zaara exclaimed. "It's fascinating to think about how every little thing we do can potentially impact the world around us."

It's Tuesday morning and I am having the promised coffee date with Zaara. We were holding the warm mug of lattes in our hands and enjoying the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the air.

"This is some of the best coffee I've ever had."

Zaara nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's amazing. I love how the nutty flavor really comes through."

I couldn't help but think about Zaara's successful parents. Both of them were magistrates, well-respected in the legal community. It was no surprise that they had wanted Zaara to follow in their footsteps and study law.

But Zaara had different plans. She wanted to pursue her passion for photography, and that had led to some conflict between her and her parents. I admired Zaara's courage in standing up for what she wanted, even if it meant going against her parents' wishes. Zaara moved out of her parents' house and rented an apartment and here we are.

"Excuse me," Zaara broke me out of my thoughts, "I need to use the restroom"

"Okay sure."

Zaara walked away and I continued sipping my coffee and munching on my pretzels.

Fifteen minutes later, I was already done with my coffee and Zaara didn't arrive from the restroom.

My phone flashed with a new text. Zaara.

"Hey, sorry to leave you like that. I just needed a minute to collect my thoughts. Do you mind if we could talk here in the restroom?" the message read.

I quickly replied, "Of course not, I'll meet you there in a few seconds."

Zaara rarely texted, she only used phone calls. So I knew that something was up with her. I frowned, wondering what could be so urgent that Zaara needed to meet me in the restroom.

I pushed open the heavy door to the cafe bathroom, a wave of nausea washing over me as the scent of lavender hit me - I hated lavender. The bathroom was small, with only five stalls lining one wall, and a sink on the opposite wall. It was poorly lit, with flickering fluorescent bulbs casting eerie shadows across the damp, yellowed tiles.

I walked down the line of stalls, my heart slightly pounding in my chest. "Zaara!," I called out. "Where are you?"

I began checking the stalls. The first cubicle was empty, the door hanging open. The second was the same, as was the third. Then I stepped on something - a phone, Zaara's phone. I picked it up as I tried to calm my racing thoughts, but my anxiety was building with every empty stall.

And then I saw it. The fourth stall had the door closed, and I could sense that someone was inside. My hand trembled as I gently pushed the door open, and my heart sank as I saw Zaara lying unconscious on the floor, her head resting in a pool of blood - stabbed brutally.

I gasped and stepped back, my mind reeling in shock. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat, and I could only stare at Zaara in horror.

A wave of panic washed over me, and I quickly regained my composure. I knelt down beside Zaara, feeling the coldness of the floor seeping through my jeans. I felt Zaara's wrist for a pulse, and my heart nearly stopped when I felt nothing.