CHAPTER 100: THE LYING TRUTH

He’d seen that face before.

Once in passing, and on a blurry newspaper scan. On a handful of Google image searches. In old academic articles, even on Instagram.

And now... he couldn’t believe he was staring straight at it from behind a window.

What the hell.

Was this some kind of sick joke ?

Craig’s chest constricted. He didn’t move at first, didn’t blink. He just watched. Trying to make sense of it. Trying to convince himself he wasn’t losing it.

But he wasn’t imagining things. The jawline. The lashes. The hair, the way she held her mug, fingers curved like a habit formed over years. This was real.

His foot shifted by accident, catching something metallic on the ground. He looked down, some kind of old wind chime fallen into the dirt. His boot had kicked it, and the sound echoed in the stillness.

When he looked back up, she was gone. The chair was empty, his stomach flipped.

"Shit."

Craig darted around the side of the house, circling to the front. He didn’t care if she saw him now. He needed answers. This couldn’t wait.

His knuckles hovered over the door, he tried the handle first, quietly. It didn’t budge.

Locked.

Craig pressed his lips together, then reached for the doorbell.

Once.

Twice.

But he was met with silence, he stepped back, nerves twitching beneath his skin.

"Hello?" he called out, voice loud and clear.

Still no answer.

The wind moved through the trees, brushing past him like a whisper he couldn’t quite catch.

Then—

Click.

The lock shifted from the inside. Craig instantly stopped, alertness kicked in, watching the handle turn, and the door creaked open.

She stood there. Pale. Tense. Her shoulders lifted with each shaky inhale, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long. Her lips parted, eyes locked on him.

Craig felt a cold ripple crawl up his spine, like the air had turned to ice. A sick, dizzy wave hit his stomach. His knees locked. His pulse hammered. A face he’d memorized from memory, behind screens. But here it was, looking right at him.

Neither of them spoke at first. Until Craig did, carefully, like he was afraid the truth might slip away if he said it too loud, "I know who you are, you’re not supposed to be here."

Her chest rose and fell, slow and deep. Her fingers gripped the edge of the door like she might collapse if she let go.

Still, she didn’t say a word.

Instead, her eyes drifted to the space behind him, like she was checking if he’d come alone. If anyone else had followed. Then back to him. She looked nervous for a split second, like she was weighing her options.

And then, she stepped back. A quiet gesture. Barely a movement. But enough.

The door opened wider.

An invitation.

Or a surrender.

Craig didn’t hesitate. He stepped over the threshold, heart thundering, lungs tight.

The door clicked shut behind him. The silence inside was even louder than it had been outside.

Across town, hours later, Merlina sat cross-legged on her bed, fingers buried in the sleeves of an oversized hoodie, the remains of a shared snack plate between her, Phoebe, and Megan now picked clean.

The windows were fogged from the afternoon chill, the heater buzzing in the corner like background noise to their half-distracted gossip.

"So are we dressing up for the welcome party or pretending we’re too cool to care?" Megan was saying, scrolling lazily through her phone.

"I vote slouchy chic," Phoebe said. "Like, ’I’m depressed but make it fashion.’"

Merlina laughed under her breath, just about to reply when her phone buzzed beside her.

Craig: Hey, you good?

Her fingers paused mid-air. She blinked at the screen, warmth crawling up the side of her neck, before she could process it, another buzz.

Craig: Can I come see you?

Her stomach did a strange little flip. She bit her lip. Had he missed her already?

A part of her couldn’t believe this was actually happening—her and Craig. After everything. But it was, and it was real. More real than she was ready for.

She told herself she wasn’t going to shy away from her feelings, or the want that still clung to her skin like a secret. But that didn’t mean she was going to throw caution to the wind either.

She was still going to try and do the right thing. Whatever that meant.

So she breathed in, steadied herself, and typed.

’Heyyy...remember what we talked about? Last night... we said it wasn’t the right time. That we’d try to keep things from getting complicated.’

Her thumb hovered. Then, she hit send. She let the phone drop beside her on the bed, heart unsettled.

Phoebe tossed a pillow at Megan. "Okay but seriously, if you two bail on the party I will dramatically sob in public."

Merlina was about to smile, when another buzz came in.

Craig: It’s important.

Her chest tightened. Something in those two words shifted everything.

They met just off campus, at a quiet little side street with a view of the lake, somewhere no one would be around to watch, or whisper.

Craig was already there when she arrived, leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, his breath curling visibly in the cold.

Merlina pulled her coat tighter as she stepped closer, hands buried in her pockets. "This isn’t exactly keeping things chill, Craig," she said, her voice laced with teasing, light, like a lifeline in the cold.

But he didn’t smile, just looked at her with a softeness in his eyes, "Miles called me last night."

She stilled. Her breath faltered before she could stop it. "Miles?" she echoed, more carefully this time. "What did he say?"

Craig looked at her then, and something in his eyes made her throat tighten. His jaw was locked, shoulders tense, but she noticed his gaze was gentler than it had any right to be.

"He was able to trace where the messages were coming from."

Merlina straightened, her heart, it pounded, frantic and uneven, like thunder with nowhere to go. "And?" she asked, "Where was it? Does he know who?" she breathed the words into the quiet, gentle and slow.

Craig hesitated, the wind stirred around them, brushing a strand of her hair across her face. Then he reached up, almost without thinking, and tucked it behind her ear.

"I think you need to see for yourself," he said softly.

The touch lingered. Just for a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek, and her breath trembled, then stopped for a split second, but for a different reason this time.

She blinked, unsure whether it was from confusion or the rising ache in her chest. "Craig..."

But he was already moving, stepping toward the car. "Come on."

The drive was silent, but not in a bad way, just thick and loaded. The kind of silence that pulses with everything unsaid, something about this moment between them was different, and she could feel it.

Snow glazed the windows, and Merlina watched the trees blur by in smudged streaks of gray and white. Every few minutes, she’d steal glances at Craig.

His hands on the wheel were steady, but tight, his knuckles pale. The same fingers that had once traced her skin with want, with care. Now they looked cold, clenched around something he wasn’t ready to say.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Where are we going?" she asked, softer now.

His jaw flexed, and his voice came low. "Just somewhere a little outside Belford."

It didn’t do anything to soothe her nerves, but she tried to remain calm until they pulled up to the edge of a gated property, quiet and shadowed beneath the trees.

Merlina shifted in her seat. "Where is this?" she asked, her voice thin with nerves. Her pulse had started to race again, but now it had company. Dread. Wonder. The strange anticipation of something irreversible.

Craig turned the car off.

He didn’t answer right away, he only looked at her like she was a question he didn’t know how to answer, and the weight of that look bent her inward.

"You don’t have to be scared," he said, voice soft but certain. "I’m with you."

Her fingers curled tighter in her lap, anxiety crawling beneath her skin. Her shoulders were tense, barely rising with each breath.

Craig saw it, the way her hands moved like she was trying not to shake, and his brows pulled together in quiet concern.

He reached across the console. Not just for her hand, but for her. His thumb grazed the inside of her wrist before he slid his fingers between hers, warm and sure.

"I’m right here," he said. "Whatever happens, remember that."

Her chest ached. Not just from fear, but from how fiercely she felt that pull toward him. How much she wanted to trust him, to lean in, to stay.

Their fingers stayed locked between them.

Merlina nodded, but her voice didn’t come. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze, soft, instinctive, like it was the only way she could speak in that moment.

Craig stilled.

For a second, he wished he could shield her from what was coming, he wished he had more than just his hand in hers, to brace her for what she was about to face. His thumb stroked across her hand once, slow, before he let out a long exhale.

Then, without a word, he opened his door, stepped out, and came around to her side.

The cold hit her skin the moment she stepped out, but it wasn’t the weather making her tremble.

She didn’t let go of his hand even as they walked toward the house. The trees swayed above them, the cold brushing their cheeks, but Merlina didn’t feel it, not really.

Not with his hand wrapped around hers like an anchor. Not with the way his fingers tightened, just once, as if he was trying to hold onto her a little longer before everything changed.

They walked toward the house, Craig led her through the front door, his hand on the small of her back. Her footsteps slowed as they got in, the sound of her boots echoing off the wooden floor.

Then, she heard a noise, someone was in the room ahead. The floor creaked, like the person had taken a careful step just out of sight.

Merlina stopped mid-step, her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. Her skin tingled, and every part of her felt tense, like she was about to snap. She turned to Craig quickly, her face tight with fear.

He didn’t say a word, but the calm in his eyes steadied something in her. Gently, he let go of her hand, and Merlina took a hesitant step forward.

She turned the corner, and froze, a woman stood with her back to them, with her hands pressed together in front of her like she was trying to stop them from shaking.

The woman’s shoulders were drawn in, tense. Nervous. Almost like she’d been expecting this.

Merlina’s breath stuttered in her chest. Something about the shape of her, the slope of her shoulders, the set of her posture felt achingly familiar.

She looked back at Craig, he still didn’t speak. He just gave her a slight nod.

And then the woman turned, at that exact moment, Merlina’s entire world split open.

Time stopped ticking. The ground didn’t feel real beneath her feet. Her vision blurred, she couldn’t hear. Couldn’t breathe. Her body went still, completely, horrifyingly paralyzed.

Her legs rooted to the floor. Her arms went light, too light, like they no longer belonged to her, she didn’t even feel her phone slipping from her fingers, it hit the ground with a dull crack but she didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look down. Couldn’t.

The mug in the woman’s hands trembled violently. Her fingers were shaking so hard, she nearly dropped it. But it wasn’t the mug that mattered.

It was her face. That face. That impossible, familiar face.

Everything in Merlina pulled back, like her body was rejecting what she was seeing. This moment felt terribly wrong. It didn’t feel real. It was like she’d stepped into a version of the world that wasn’t supposed to exist, something unnatural.

But the woman was still standing there, staring back at her with the same eyes that had watched her blow out birthday candles, that had softened at scraped knees and school plays. The same eyes Merlina never thought she’d see again.

That can’t be her, that can’t be right.

That’s not—

Her voice cracked with tears before it could even fully form, breaking against the heaviness in her chest. "Mom?"