When nothing goes right, turn left

A Truth Half-Remembered

The conversation about the chapel ended, but the silence it left behind clung to Veronica.

The school hallways felt narrower today. The voices around her—too loud, too casual. Like they were mocking her, ignoring the weight in her chest.

At lunch, Bella stirred her drink absentmindedly. Clark sat unusually still, fingers tracing invisible patterns against the tabletop.

"Do you ever feel like we forgot something?"Veronica asked suddenly.

Both of them froze.

Clark's knuckles whitened. Bella's straw stopped swirling.

"What do you mean?" Bella finally asked, voice cautious.

Veronica hesitated. She didn't know how to explain it—this gnawing feeling that something about the murder wasn't just a distant tragedy. That it was more than whispers in the hallways, more than a name thrown around carelessly.

"Smith," she said, letting the name settle between them.

Bella's jaw clenched.

Clark shifted in his seat. "What about him?"

Veronica studied their faces—something flickered there, something she recognized but couldn't place.

"I think we were there."

Bella's fingers curled around her cup so tightly the plastic bent.

Clark inhaled sharply."Veronica—"

"No," she pressed, voice low. "Not just after. I think we saw—before it happened."

For a second, she swore she saw fear in Clark's eyes.

"We don't talk about that,"Bella whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

Veronica's pulse quickened. "Why?"

Bella looked at Clark. Clark looked at Bella.

Neither of them answered.

And for the first time, Veronica realized: **they knew something.**

Evening...

Veronica sat on the far edge of the school courtyard, flipping through a book she wasn't really reading. Her fingers hovered over the page, but her mind kept drifting—back to the unanswered texts, the silence where William's voice used to be.

"You look distracted."

The voice was smooth, confident—Alex.

She closed the book, looking up. "I'm not."

He sat beside her anyway, resting his arm along the back of the bench. His presence was effortless, like he belonged there. Like he already knew her well enough to intrude.

"Right," he said, smirking slightly. "Thinking about your ex doesn't count as being distracted."

Veronica's stomach twisted. "That's none of your business."

"Maybe."Alex leaned forward. "But it's written all over your face."

She hated that. Hated how easy he made it seem, reading her like a puzzle he'd already solved.

"William is just..." she started, then stopped. She didn't even know how to finish the sentence.

"Just what?"

"Gone." The word felt heavier out loud than it did in her mind.

Alex studied her for a moment, his usual charm dimmed by something quieter. "You ever think about letting him be gone?

Veronica hesitated. "It's not that simple."

"It never is."His voice was unreadable now, like he understood too much.

For the first time, Veronica wondered **what exactly Alex had left behind in his own life.**