In the heart of New York City, Jacob Daniel leads a seemingly normal life, running a café near Central Park with his closest friends, Sam and Katie. But when Katie's boss is found murdered and the FBI pulls her into a high-stakes investigation, the...
The night felt like an eternity as Jake sat in the dim room, eyes heavy with exhaustion but mind relentless, flickering between memories of Anna and the dark truths he had just uncovered. A life once filled with love now haunted by loss were scattered around him. The images of Anna's broken body as it was found that fateful night five years ago haunted him, every detail etched into his mind as if it had happened yesterday. Stripped, beaten, stabbed. She deserved so much more than this senseless cruelty, he thought. And today, after five long years, he was finally ready to confront her memory, to honor her in a way he had never before dared.
It was 7:30 a.m. by the time Jake dragged himself to his feet. He slipped into black jeans and a white shirt, finishing with a leather jacket almost identical to the one he had worn when he first met Anna. It felt fitting, as if somehow it could bring a piece of her back. In the bag slung over his shoulder, he placed the letter, and the box in his bag. His gun and knife, well-concealed under his jacket, completed the somber ensemble. His hunt for Alexandra had begun, but first, he needed answers—answers he hoped were buried with Anna.
As Jake rode through the quiet, gray streets, the soft rumble of his engine echoing off the empty sidewalks, his mind drifted back to their moments together. He stopped briefly to buy flowers, his hands trembling slightly as he handed cash to the florist. By the time he reached the cemetery, he was drained, but he pressed on, parking his bike and making his way across the soft, dew-laden grass.
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And there it was, nestled beneath a Rosy trumpet tree, its branches gracefully bending toward the ground as if reaching out to cradle her headstone.
Anna Marie Gauthier Born - 5 July 1993 Died - 31 October 2019
Jake froze. His heart pounded, every beat echoing painfully against his chest. He let out a long breath he didn't know he'd been holding, feeling his throat tighten. He knelt, placing the flowers gently by the grave, and as he closed his eyes.
Standing there at Anna's grave, Jake felt the weight of her absence press down like the silence around him. The autumn wind tugged at his coat, rustling the leaves that had already gathered around the headstone, but nothing could disturb the memories that came flooding back, vivid and sharp as if they were unfolding right there in front of him.
He remembered the first time he saw her, clear as day. It was the spring of 2014, a warm afternoon in France, at her family's house. He'd been invited over by her sister, Alexandra, while he was on an exchange program at the University of Paris. Walking into their kitchen that day, his eyes fell on Anna, and he felt his heart skip—a feeling so sudden, so inexplicably powerful, that he'd nearly forgotten where he was. That was when he broke the kettle, clumsily knocking it to the floor as she turned, startled, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. She'd laughed it off, graceful even in his blunder, and he had never felt so simultaneously embarrassed and entranced. Anna had a way of looking at him that made him feel seen, as if she could read every stray thought he tried to hide.
