Chapter 10: The Distance Between Us

The weekend that followed was a quiet storm.

Samantha found herself staring at her phone more often than she liked to admit—half-expecting another anonymous email, half-dreading a message from Nathan. But nothing came. No mysterious sender. No confession. And from Nathan—just the usual texts filled with warmth, jokes, and little check-ins.

Except now, even those felt... off.

It wasn’t that he said anything strange. It was that everything he said was so normal. Too normal. Like he was trying to preserve something fragile without addressing the cracks beneath it.

Samantha hated herself for doubting him, yet she couldn’t let go of that email. The way his expression changed. The flash of fear in his eyes when she brought it up. That moment kept replaying in her mind like a song stuck on a broken loop.

By Tuesday, the anxiety had gnawed at her long enough. She decided to do what she always did when her mind spiraled—focus on work.

The new marketing campaign launch at the firm was only a week away, and everyone was in overdrive. She threw herself into the project, coordinating the visuals, managing copy edits, staying late to finalize pitch decks.

It worked, sort of. For a little while, she almost forgot the weight pressing on her chest.

That was, until he walked into the office.

Not Nathan—Ethan.

Ethan Lively, the golden boy of the firm. Handsome, charming, a brilliant strategist. And for a long time, the one guy Samantha had a complicated history with.

“Hey, stranger,” he said, leaning against her cubicle wall with that trademark smirk.

Samantha blinked up from her laptop, surprised. “Ethan? I thought you were still stationed in San Diego.”

“Wrapped that project up early. They wanted me back for the campaign push. Looks like we’ll be working together again.”

His tone was light, but the implication wasn't. There had always been an undercurrent between them—a past she hadn’t fully unpacked, and now wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Ethan glanced at her, his gaze lingering just a second too long. “You okay? You look a little... tense.”

“I’m fine,” Samantha lied smoothly. “Just busy.”

He nodded, then offered her a coffee. “Well, consider this a peace offering—for whatever I did last time that made you ghost me.”

She laughed despite herself, taking the cup. “You didn’t do anything... I just—life got messy.”

“Messy how?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Samantha hesitated. Then, almost without thinking, she murmured, “Do you ever feel like someone you care about is hiding something from you? Like… they’re wearing a mask, and you’re only just starting to see the edges peel away?”

Ethan’s expression shifted. He wasn’t smiling now. “Yeah. I’ve been there.”

She looked at him, startled by the seriousness in his voice.

“Sometimes,” he continued, “the hardest thing isn’t discovering the truth. It’s deciding what to do with it once you know.”

The words struck a chord, deeper than she expected.

Later that day, Samantha opened the email again. She read it line by line, looking for clues. There was nothing concrete—no evidence, no name. Just warnings, insinuations. And yet, it had shaken her more than she cared to admit.

That night, she met Nathan for dinner.

He had picked a cozy little bistro downtown, dimly lit and quiet. Romantic, even. He looked at her like he always did—like she was the only one in the room.

But she couldn’t shake the tension in her chest.

“Samantha,” he said halfway through the meal, setting down his fork. “Are we okay?”

She looked up at him, surprised.

“You’ve been distant,” he continued. “And I know things got weird after that email. But I need to know… are we still in this?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. How could she explain the war inside her? The tug-of-war between trust and instinct?

“I want to believe you,” she said finally, her voice soft. “But I can’t stop wondering what else I don’t know about you.”

Nathan’s jaw tightened. “I told you. That email was someone trying to mess with us.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked away, his fingers tightening around his glass. “What do you want me to say, Sam? That I have a dark past? That I’m some villain hiding secrets? Because I’m not.”

“Then prove it.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“Prove it to me,” she said, her voice steady now. “Tell me the truth. All of it. No more deflection. No more vague promises.”

Nathan’s expression was unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might actually say something—something big. But then he simply leaned back in his chair and gave a tight nod.

“Okay,” he said. “You want the truth? You’ll have it.”

And with that, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, black envelope.

Samantha stared at it, her heart pounding.

“What is that?” she asked.

Nathan pushed it across the table. “Something that’ll explain everything.”

Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. Inside was a single key... and a folded piece of paper with an address.

“Meet me here tomorrow night,” he said quietly. “Alone. No one else. If you really want answers… that’s where they’ll be.”

Samantha didn’t know what scared her more—what she’d find there… or what it would mean if she didn’t go at all.