The weeks turned into a whirlwind of anxiety and sleepless nights. The echo of her boss's call kept replaying in my head, constantly reminding me that I was missing something essential. I started noticing strange things in my sister's behavior: the way she glanced at her phone during our conversations, or the smile that seemed to flicker whenever I mentioned Liam.
It had become unbearable. I was sinking into a downward spiral, drowning in an ocean of doubt and fear. I had to face it again, find a solid anchor point.
One rainy evening, sitting in our darkened living room, I felt compelled to contact Mr. Peterson again. Perhaps he still had something to tell me. As I paced back and forth, my heart pounding, I needed answers. The call was brief, but it triggered a wave of confusion. "Emily, I can't talk. Do what you have to do." His voice trembled, breaking slightly. "You have to be careful."
