The Midnight Train

8:

The air between them grew heavier as silence took over the conversation, each lost in their own thoughts. Lydia looked at Nolan’s face, searching for any trace of the man he had just described—the idealistic detective who had once believed in justice before it betrayed him. But all she saw was the hardened shell he had become, molded by the cruel reality of the world he lived in now.

She leaned back in her chair, feeling a strange weight settle in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was pity for Nolan’s past, or frustration at the man he had become. Or maybe it was something deeper, a fear that her fate might somehow mirror his. She wanted to break the silence, to ask more questions, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle more answers.

Nolan stood up abruptly, dragging her out of her thoughts. His expression had returned to its usual guarded self, the vulnerability he’d shown just moments ago locked away behind cold eyes.

“I’ve said enough for one day,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair as if shaking off the conversation. “I need some air.”

Lydia watched him stride towards the door, her lips parted as if to call him back, but the words never came. She wasn’t sure why she felt a tug of disappointment. Maybe it was because, for the first time, she had gotten a glimpse of who Nolan really was, and now he was retreating back into the shadows.

Before Nolan reached the door, she found her voice. “Nolan, wait.”

He stopped, turning to look at her with raised eyebrows, but said nothing.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” She surprised herself with the apology, unsure if it was even the right thing to say. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

Nolan’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained. He didn’t respond right away, simply staring at her as if trying to read her thoughts.

Finally, he sighed. “You’re not pushing me, Lydia. You just…” He paused, shaking his head. “You just remind me of the person I used to be.”

Lydia felt a pang in her chest. She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but before she could form the question, Nolan had turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Lydia sat there, staring at the closed door, a wave of emotions washing over her—confusion, sadness, curiosity. There was something about Nolan that drew her in, something beyond his tough exterior and guarded nature. She wanted to understand him, to peel back the layers and see what lay beneath. But every time she got close, he pulled away.

She stood up and walked over to the window, watching as the sky outside turned a darker shade of blue, the sun setting on the horizon. Her reflection stared back at her, and for the first time in a long while, she wondered who she was—who she had been before her memory had been ripped away from her.

A part of her wanted to push Nolan, to make him tell her more about her past, about their connection, but another part of her was terrified of what she might uncover. The thought of piecing together her shattered memories was daunting, and the fear of what she might find lurking in the shadows of her mind was almost paralyzing.

But what scared her even more was the thought of losing herself completely. If Nolan didn’t want to help her remember, who would? If her memories stayed lost, what was she supposed to do? Stay stuck in this limbo, forever questioning her place in the world?

She needed answers.

With a deep breath, Lydia made a decision. If Nolan wasn’t willing to help her unlock her memories willingly, then maybe she’d have to find another way. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for her past to come back to her.

She glanced at the door Nolan had just walked through. Maybe the next time he opened up, she’d be ready to push harder—ready to pry open the secrets he held so tightly.

And until then, she'd find her own way to get closer to the truth.