My heart begins beating harder. A psychiatrist. I stare at the paper, my fingers tightening around it. Why would Marcus be diagnosing him? Why would Dominic need a psychiatrist? For five years I’ve known him, five years of living together, five years of sharing a bed, a home, a life.
And not once, not once—has he ever mentioned seeing a psychiatrist. I’ve never seen medication bottles in the bathroom cabinet, except for his sleeping pills. I’ve never heard him talk about therapy or appointments, I’ve never noticed anything unusual at all.
Nothing.
Not even once.
Unless…
Unless he never wanted me to know.
The paper trembles slightly in my hand. Marcus isn’t just Dominic’s coworker. He’s his psychiatrist. A wave of dread washes over me, but I keep digging through the drawer anyway. More files, more notes. Then something black appears beneath the stack of paperwork.
Fabric.
My hands freeze.
Slowly, carefully, I pull it free.
My breath catches.
A scarf.
Black.
Soft.
And in the corner, embroidered in white thread, two small initials:
S.L.
The room spins around me. Sophie was wearing this scarf the day she went missing. The day Dominic left after our argument. My fingers start shaking uncontrollably as the realization crashes over me. My mind is moving too fast, too loud, every thought colliding with the next. I can’t even look at the rest of the drawer. I shove the papers back inside, slamming the drawer closed but the scarf stays in my hand. My mind is racing too fast to think clearly. I rush downstairs, grabbing my keys from the counter and within seconds I’m back in my car, the engine starting before I even realize what I’m doing.
Tears blur my vision as I drive.
I pull over near the small park down the street from the house. The same park where I sat earlier by the lake. My hands tremble as I grip the steering wheel. I pull out my phone. I’m going to call Clara, I think. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to say. My thumb moves toward her name. But as I scroll through my contacts, my finger passes it and without thinking, I press another name.
Lucien.
And the phone begins to ring. “Sera?” His voice comes through the phone, thick with confusion.
“Lucien…” My voice breaks as soon as I say his name. The words get tangled in my throat, stumbling over each other. “He… it’s him… the scarf… she’s missing… I— I talked to her sister and she said it’s not like her and I have a feeling he has something to do with this and—and I’m so scared.”
“Sera,” he says immediately, his voice suddenly steady and urgent. “Where are you?”
For a second my mind goes blank. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s shaking my entire body. My fingers tremble around the phone as I try to form words.
“I—I…” I swallow hard. “I’m… I’m at the park near the office. I’m parked.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Lucien says quickly. “Stay there. I’m coming to you.”
The call ends. The silence inside the car feels enormous. My hands cover my mouth as the tears finally spill over. My shoulders shake as I try to hold back the sound of crying, but it’s impossible. My mind won’t stop replaying everything.
The dinner.
Dominic’s nervous look.
Their affair.