The world didn't stop when Liam disappeared.
That was the worst part.
The lights still flickered.
The rain still fell.
The police still moved around the scene like nothing had shifted.
But something had.
Something fundamental.
"Elara—"
The voice cut through the noise.
Not his.
Not anymore.
Aaron.
Elara didn't turn.
She was still standing where Liam had been.
Her hand suspended in the air—
fingers slightly curled,
like she was still holding onto something that wasn't there.
"Say something," Aaron said.
Quiet.
Measured.
Too calm.
Her chest rose unevenly.
"…He was right here."
Her voice didn't sound like hers.
Too distant.
Too hollow.
Aaron didn't respond immediately.
"He still is," he said.
That made her turn.
Fast.
Sharp.
"What?"
Aaron held her gaze.
"You're just looking at it the wrong way."
Her stomach dropped.
"No," she said. "No, don't do that—don't talk like that."
Because she knew that tone.
That wasn't comfort.
That was—
guidance.
And guidance—
had already cost her.
"I'm not trying to confuse you," Aaron said.
"Then stop talking like you know something I don't."
Silence.
For a second—
just a second—
something shifted in his expression.
Not much.
But enough.
"I do," he said.
That landed harder than anything else.
Elara stepped forward.
"Then tell me where he is."
Aaron didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't soften.
"He hasn't gone anywhere," he said.
Her hands clenched.
"He's not here."
"You're defining 'here' too narrowly."
Her breath caught.
That sentence—
felt like something she had heard before.
Or would hear again.
"I don't care about definitions," she snapped. "I care about him."
This time—
Aaron didn't argue.
He nodded.
"I know."
That—
was new.
Not the words.
The way he said it.
Less distant.
Almost—
human.
"Then help me," she said.
A beat.
"I am."
Her jaw tightened.
"No, you're watching."
Aaron tilted his head slightly.
"Same thing," he said.
Her pulse spiked.
"No, it's not."
Silence stretched again.
Then—
finally—
Aaron stepped aside.
Just enough.
To reveal something behind him.
A body bag.
Different from the one before.
Sealed.
Labeled.
EVIDENCE – CASE 07
Elara's breath slowed.
Case 07.
Her mind moved fast now.
Too fast.
"You said there were ten," she said.
Aaron nodded.
"There are."
"Then why is this seven?"
Aaron watched her.
Carefully.
"Because this is the one you changed."
Her heart stuttered.
"…what?"
He gestured slightly.
"Go on," he said.
She hesitated.
Every instinct told her not to.
But instinct—
hadn't been reliable.
Not recently.
She stepped forward.
Slowly.
Each step heavier than the last.
The air felt thicker here.
Colder.
Like something had been preserved.
Waiting.
She crouched.
Her fingers hovered over the zipper.
Then—
she pulled it open.
The sound—
too loud.
Too final.
She forced herself to look.
And everything inside her—
dropped.
It wasn't Daniel.
Not this time.
It was—
someone else.
Someone she knew.
Her breath broke.
"…No."
A woman.
Mid-thirties.
Dark hair.
Still.
Too still.
Elara shook her head.
"I know her."
Aaron didn't answer.
"She worked at the clinic," Elara continued, voice shaking."She—she was one of my cases."
Memory hit.
Fast.
Unstable.
"She came to me about—"
She stopped.
Because the rest—
wasn't clear.
Or worse—
it was.
And she didn't want to say it.
"She said someone was watching her," Elara whispered.
The words felt heavy.
Real.
"And you told her?" Aaron asked.
Elara's chest tightened.
"I told her it was anxiety."
Silence.
That was it.
That was the moment.
The first fracture.
"You dismissed it," Aaron said.
Not accusing.
Just—
placing it.
Elara shook her head.
"I was trying to help."
"I know."
That made it worse.
Because it meant—
intent didn't matter.
Outcome did.
"She died three days later," Aaron said.
Elara closed her eyes.
"No…"
"Case 01."
Her breath caught.
"This is the first one?" she asked.
Aaron nodded.
"You just saw it out of order."
Her mind spun.
"Out of—"
Then she understood.
The timeline—
wasn't linear.
She hadn't been following the pattern.
She had been—
jumping through it.
"Where's the rest?" she asked suddenly.
Aaron gestured toward the van.
"Inside."
Elara stood.
Her hands shaking now.
Not from fear.
From urgency.
"If he's still here," she said, turning back to him,"then I can bring him back."
Aaron didn't respond.
That silence—
said enough.
"How?" she demanded.
This time—
he answered.
"Find the point where he connects."
Her breath caught.
"Connects to what?"
Aaron held her gaze.
"To the pattern."
Everything stilled.
Then—
Elara moved.
Fast.
Toward the van.
Toward the bodies.
Toward the truth she had been avoiding.
Because now—
it wasn't about understanding anymore.
It was about—
saving him.