The morning light came late that day. It slanted through the half-drawn curtains, catching the dust in pale gold streaks. 

Ina moved about quietly in the kitchen, trying not to wake the others. The apartment felt still, the only sound being her distant footsteps. The faint hiss of the kettle, the smell of coffee, the soft clink of cups, all of it should have felt normal. But nothing had been normal in days. 

A few days had passed after the police officer had talked with Jane. The stillness of the past few days wrapped around them like a weight, the kind that comes when everything feels too peaceful, the calm before something inevitable breaks.

Jane sat on the couch, a blanket over her knees, her sketchbook open but untouched. She had drawn the same crooked line three times and then stopped. Every sound, the floorboard creak, the kettle whistle, made her a little restless. Near her, River was asleep on the wider couch, stirring lightly at the noise of the kettle.

She glanced at the clock. 9:13. He still wasn't up.

That's when the phone rang; the sound felt too loud for the morning.

Ina froze, the coffee spoon mid-air. Jane looked up instantly. The phone buzzed again on the table, sharp and insistent. The consistent ringing of the phone made River stir awake as he sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for it.

"Unknown number," he muttered, half to himself. He hesitated for just a second before answering.

"Hello?"

A pause. Then his expression shifted — calm at first, then unreadable. Jane couldn't hear the voice on the other end, only River's replies, quiet and clipped.

"...Yes, this is he."

"...Now?"

"May I know what this is about?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand. I'll be there."

He ended the call. The silence that followed pressed against the room.

Ina spoke first. "Who was that?"

"The precinct," River said simply. "They want me to come in. A follow-up talk, they said."

Jane blinked. "A follow-up? Already?"

River tried for a small, reassuring smile. "Probably just procedure. You know how these things go."

But the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Ina put down her cup. "River, they can't just keep—"

"It's fine," he said, gently but firmly. "They probably just want to clarify something from the last statement."

She watched him walk towards the bedroom. "Then I'm coming with you," she said.

He shook his head. "No. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

"River—"

"Ina," he cut in softly. "It's just a talk. I will be fine."

That didn't calm her. If anything, it made her chest tighten. She turned away, trying to breathe. 

"At least let me find someone to go with you. A lawyer. Just in case."

He sighed. "You don't need to do that. It probably isn't that serious."

Jane finally spoke, her voice small. "Did they say what it's about?"

River hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Just that they needed me to come in."

Jane nodded, but her fingers twisted the edge of her blanket. She didn't look up again.

Ina was already scrolling through her phone, muttering names under her breath. "I know someone from university who's in law. I'll call him."

River came over and gently took the phone from her hands. "It's fine. I'll handle it."

Her eyes met his; searching, afraid. "You shouldn't have to handle everything."

He smiled faintly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she whispered, though her voice cracked just slightly. After a while, he came out, his clothes and hair, neat as always, as he picked up his jacket from the hanger. He slipped his shoes on, took his keys, and headed for the door.

"River—" she started, but stopped.

He turned back, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll call when I get there," he said.

The door closed with a soft click.

The quiet that followed felt heavier than before.

Jane sat still for a long time, staring at the cup of coffee going cold in her hands.
Finally, she murmured — almost to herself, "He didn't do anything wrong."

But her voice sounded uncertain.

— —

Ina stayed by the window long after River left, her fingers curled tight around the edge of the curtain.
She could still see him crossing the street below, hands in his pockets, head slightly lowered. Something about the way he walked, steady but tense, made her stomach twist.

Jane's voice came from the couch, soft and uncertain. "He'll be fine, Ina."

Ina didn't answer right away. Her throat felt dry. "It's not him I don't trust," she said finally. "It's... the way they're handling this. The way they keep calling him in like that."

Jane shifted slightly, her blanket slipping to the floor. "They said it was a follow-up. That's normal."

Ina turned to her, eyes tired but sharp. "Normal? They already have his statement. They said they'd contact us if anything came up, not drag him in again without saying why."

Jane looked down at her hands, at the faint tremor in her fingers. She wanted to agree, but she couldn't shake the memory of Victor's quiet, almost leading questions, and the way her own answers might've sounded if taken the wrong way.
Her stomach sank.

"Ina..." she started carefully, "when I spoke to that officer, I—I might've said something that could sound wrong. About River leaving the hospital for a few hours."

Ina turned sharply. "What do you mean, sound wrong?"

Jane's voice faltered. "He asked if River was with me the whole time, and I said no. But that was only because I didn't want him waiting around for hours. He had gone to get my medicines, that's all."

Ina blinked, processing that. Then she shook her head, as if physically rejecting the idea.
"They're twisting it," she said, voice low. "They're trying to make it look like something it's not."

Jane's breath came a little quicker. "What if that's why they called him? What if—"

The door opened quietly. Rui stepped in, her expression guarded as always, a phone still in her hand. "What's going on?"

Ina turned toward her. "They called River in again. Said they needed him at the station." Rui paused in her movements, her eyes wide.

Frowning, she asked, "...Now? What for?"

"They didn't say."

She looked pale as she fidgeted with her fingers for a while. "...did he take anyone with him?" she asked slowly.

Ina shook her head. "He said he'd call."

"That's what they all say," Rui muttered under her breath, earning a sharp look from Ina.

"Don't start," she said.

Rui held up her hands in surrender, suddenly raising her tone. "I'm just saying — they're trying to pin this on someone, and River's the easiest target. He found the body. He was there. They don't care about nuance."

Jane looked up, her eyes wide and guilt-ridden. "It's my fault," she whispered. "If I hadn't—"

"It's not your fault," Ina interrupted quickly, crossing the room to sit beside her. "You just answered their questions. That's all."

Rui stayed silent for a moment, watching the two of them. "Still," she said at last, "you might want to get ahead of this. If they're already circling him, it won't stop at one more conversation...."

Ina looked at her as she kept going. Rui's nervous rambling didn't help her a tiny bit. 

"You know what, I should go to the station. I cannot sit here like this," she stood up, only to be pulled back down by Rui, snapping out of her thoughts.

"You are not going anywhere in this state," she declared, giving her a sharp look.

Ina's hands tightened around the edge of her shawl. She saw the look on Rui's face and sat back down.

She lowered her voice, almost to herself. "I know he can handle it himself, yeah, but—" Ina fell silent, as she stared at the floor.

The three of them sat in silence again, the clock ticking faintly in the background.

Then Ina whispered, breaking the silence, "He'll call soon."

But the longer the silence stretched, the less certain she sounded.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁