Chapter 3: The Closet and the Diary

The search team took a quick look and said the person had probably been murdered—there was a large wound on the abdomen.

The sight made my stomach roll. For some reason, I suddenly thought of the knife that had appeared in my hand that morning, though it was already gone.

Who would go out of their way to steal it? It had to be someone who knew about the knife.

The memory of the cleaning lady’s nervous glances flashed through my mind. That cleaning lady who wouldn’t leave—could she have been an accomplice, deliberately stalling while someone else snuck in through the window?

I replayed the sequence again, anxiety knotting in my chest. "Well, at least it’s not Lillian. That’s something. There’s still hope." Caleb patted my shoulder.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to my hands, lingering just a second too long, as if he expected to see blood there. His hand lingered for a second—awkward but comforting. I came back to my senses and nodded silently.

Since it wasn’t Lillian’s body, the rest was naturally handed over to the police.

Flashing red and blue lights soon lit up the bank, officers fanning out with evidence bags and radios. On the way back, a casual question from Caleb sent a ripple through my heart.

"I heard you went back to our hometown the day before yesterday. Was it for Lillian?"

The way he said it—‘I heard’—his tone was like a detective, waiting to catch me in a lie.

My jaw tightened. "Work stuff. There was a project I had to check on. I’m already grateful my boss gave me such a long leave—I couldn’t say no."

Caleb just grunted and didn’t ask further.

He drove straight to the underground garage. The tires squeaked on the concrete as he parked. I got out and said goodbye, but he didn’t seem ready to leave.

"Why not come up for a bit, man?" I actually hoped he’d refuse.

But Caleb agreed right away.

I braced myself and took him upstairs. My heart pounded even faster as I entered the code on the lock.

Each beep felt too loud, like it might draw the whole building’s attention. "What’s wrong? Feeling sick?" Caleb noticed how tense I was.

I shook my head, lying that the code lock was running low on battery and slow to respond.

He smirked. "Told you not to use these things. A regular lock is more reliable."

"But if you lose the key, you still can’t get in," I muttered.

Ding—the door opened. He didn’t say anything else, just walked in with a grim face.

His boots left faint prints on the worn entryway rug. I kept an eye on where he was looking the whole time. Fortunately, he soon sat down on the couch.

"Where did you put Lillian’s things?"

I hesitated before answering. "I haven’t touched them. As long as I see her things still here, I can pretend she might come back any moment."

I set down the glass of water I’d just poured for him, but he didn’t even glance at it before getting up and heading for the bedroom.

A bad feeling hit me. I rushed ahead to block the door.

"Man, I woke up late and haven’t cleaned yet. It’s a mess in there." I scratched my head awkwardly.

Caleb didn’t speak or get angry—he just stood there quietly, staring at me.

The silence stretched. I had no choice but to let him through. He pushed open the door and went in, his eyes not even lingering on the messy bed.

"Lillian didn’t take her clothes?" He opened the closet.

Inside, it was packed with Lillian’s clothes. I didn’t have much—just one small section for my things.

He must have noticed, too, from the unused hangers.

A faded lavender sweater poked out from the pile. The scent of her vanilla body spray still clung to her sweaters, sharp and sweet and utterly out of place. "She left in a hurry and didn’t take anything. I thought she’d just gone out for a walk and would come back when she’d cooled off."

"She loved looking nice. Even at home, she’d change outfits every day since she was a kid. I wonder how she’s managed these days."

My chest tightened at the thought. But if she’s dead, there’s no need to worry about changing clothes.

The next second, I was startled by my own morbid thought and couldn’t help sneezing loudly.

The dust in the closet hit my nose like pepper. Caleb was still flipping through the clothes, not turning around, just asking if I’d caught a chill last night and telling me to take some cold medicine.

His voice was softer than usual. I was just about to leave when something fell with a thud onto the closet’s wooden shelf.

"Is this Lillian’s?"

Caleb spoke, and only then did I dare turn to look.

He was holding a yellow notebook I’d never seen before.

It looked old, the edges curled. "It fell from the sleeve of her clothes. You’ve never seen this before?"

Seeing my bewildered face, Caleb opened the first page of the notebook.

My heart leapt into my throat, my legs going stiff.

He flipped through a few more pages, and whatever he saw made him look up at me with a strange expression.

"Did you hide Lillian?"