“I don’t know, you tell me,” I said, my voice light but laced with tension. “You’re the one who was there.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Honestly, Micaela, I don’t remember much after we left the office. We went to a bar, did some karaoke, and then… I don’t know. One of the guys probably wrote it. It’s nothing.”
But his explanation didn’t ease the discomfort I felt. If anything, it made it worse.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. For days, the message haunted me. Every time I looked at Travis, I wondered if he was hiding something.
He seemed normal enough, but there was a subtle change in the way he acted – or maybe I was imagining it. either way, I couldn’t let it go.
That’s when I decided to talk to my mom. I spilled everything over a cup of coffee, even the nagging feeling that had been eating at me since that night. She listened quietly, her face thoughtful, and then she offered a suggestion I wasn’t expecting.