Blocked

Chapter Fourteen (02)

Mia's eyes softened as she gazed at the dilapidated house. She turned to Sebastian, her voice fragile but full of emotion. "I remember... a week before she died, we baked cookies together. She wasn't feeling well, but she insisted we do it. It was one of those rare moments where she didn't seem tired or weighed down by... everything. I was only six, and I didn't really understand what she was going through, but I could feel it. She had this lightness about her that day, like she was ready to leave the life she was leading."

Mia paused, her eyes distant as she continued. "After we baked, we went to a theme park. It wasn't anything fancy, but I remember her smiling a lot, and for once, it felt like we were just... normal. Like she was trying to give me something good to hold on to."

She swallowed, her throat tightening. "But I overheard her on the phone later that night. She was talking to someone. A man. I didn't know who, but... I think it was him. The man who murdered her. She was telling him she was done, that she didn't want to live that way anymore. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. She was ready to leave, ready to give me a better life."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But she never got the chance. They never caught him, Sebastian. He was someone important, someone influential, and her life... it didn't matter."

Sebastian's hand gently rested over Mia's on the steering wheel, offering silent comfort. His touch was warm, grounding. For a moment, their eyes met, and in his green eyes, she saw something that made her chest tighten-a kind of deep understanding, a silent promise that he was here, really here, for her. His eyes were like a forest-deep, layered, and full of life. There was a wisdom behind them, a calmness that made her feel seen, yet they held a vulnerability too, something raw and real. It was a stark contrast to the way most people looked at her, with pity or judgment.

But despite the warmth of the moment, it was too much. The vulnerability, the closeness-she wasn't ready for it. Mia pulled her hand away, her heart racing. The moment was broken, and her thoughts snapped back to the present.

Sebastian didn't react. He just nodded softly, his expression remaining gentle. "Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked quietly.

Mia hesitated but eventually nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

They switched places, and as they headed back, the silence between them felt comfortable. Sebastian didn't push for more, and for that, Mia was grateful. The drive home was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that didn't need filling-just a shared understanding between two people who had seen each other in a way that words couldn't quite express.

As Sebastian and Mia drove away from Mia's childhood home, the night seemed to envelop them in a cloak of uneasy calm. They were so engrossed in their quiet journey that they didn't notice the dark sedan trailing behind them. Its windows were tinted, obscuring the identity of the driver, who kept a careful distance, just enough to remain inconspicuous but close enough to stay in sight.

Inside the car, the detective known as Hallowe watched them intently through the rearview mirror. His face, illuminated only by the dashboard lights, was set in a grim expression. He turned to the passenger seat, where a young man sat, waiting for instructions.

"Keep an eye on the Jenkins girl," Hallowe said, his voice low and steady, barely masking a tone of frustration. "Make sure you report everything. I want to know where she goes and who she meets. We can't afford any more surprises."

The young man nodded, pulling out a small notebook and a pen. "Understood. I'll follow them until I get further instructions."

Hallowe's gaze followed the taillights of Mia's car as it merged onto the highway, his brow furrowed in thought. His mind raced with the implications of Mia's recent actions and the potential connections that might unravel. The night air felt charged with unspoken tensions, and Hallowe's unease lingered as he watched the car disappear into the distance.