The rejected crown (book 2)

The vanishing thread

Andrea

Andrea sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone. Ezra's name sat at the top of her contact list, untouched for years but never deleted. She hadn't dared to look at it for so long, terrified of what she might feel—or not feel—if she did. But tonight, something compelled her.

Her thumb hovered over his name, the familiar letters suddenly foreign, like a word in a language she no longer understood. Taking a deep breath, she opened their old message thread, the once vibrant conversations now frozen in time.

At first, it was comforting. She smiled faintly, reading his goofy jokes, the late-night ramblings that had made her laugh out loud in her room. But as she scrolled further, her stomach tightened.

Something was wrong.

Andrea blinked, scrolling back up, her pulse quickening. The messages—some of them were gone.

Her heart pounded as she refreshed the app, her breath catching in her throat. No matter how many times she scrolled, certain conversations weren't there anymore. All that remained were a few scattered texts: mentions of detention, brief apologies. The rest—the inside jokes, the promises, the words that had once defined their relationship—were missing.

She stared at the screen, her hands trembling.

"What's going on?" she whispered to herself.

Desperately, she opened her camera roll, searching for anything—a picture of them together, a selfie from one of their adventures. But as she scrolled, dread settled in her chest.

There was nothing.

Not a single photo of Ezra.

Her phone slipped from her hands onto the bed. It was as though he'd never existed.

"No," Andrea whispered, shaking her head. "No, this isn't real."

She grabbed her laptop, logging into her cloud storage to search for backups. Photos, conversations, anything. But every folder she opened yielded the same result.

Ezra wasn't there.

Her breathing quickened, panic clawing at her chest. She pressed her palms to her temples, trying to think, trying to make sense of what was happening. This isn't real. It can't be real.

Andrea bolted to her feet and grabbed her jacket. There was only one person she could turn to—Mia.

The night air was crisp as Andrea approached the small apartment complex where Mia now lived. She hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.

Mia opened it quickly, her hair pulled into a messy bun and her phone in hand. She smiled when she saw Andrea, though it was laced with curiosity. "Andrea? What's up? It's late."

Andrea forced a shaky smile. "I need to ask you something. It's important."

Mia tilted her head, stepping aside to let Andrea in. "Sure. Everything okay?"

Andrea walked into the cozy living room, her eyes darting around. The space was warm and filled with small signs of Mia's life—framed pictures with friends, a throw blanket on the couch, a half-empty coffee mug on the table. But there was nothing of Ezra. Not even a trace.

"Do you have anything of Ezra?" Andrea asked abruptly.

Mia froze mid-step, turning to look at her. "What?"

"Ezra," Andrea repeated, her voice rising with urgency. "Your brother. Do you have anything—pictures, messages, anything of him?"

Mia's brow furrowed as she set her phone down. "Andrea, what are you talking about?"