Chương 5
My fingers hovered over the phone.
Then another message arrived.
“I know about the transfers.”
My heart started beating faster.
A third message followed.
“And I know why he needed the money.”
I stared at Léo’s message until the words stopped looking like words.
I knew I should not answer immediately.
That was what Daniel had told me.
Do not move before you understand what you are moving toward.
But there was something about seeing Julien’s younger brother’s name on my screen that made patience feel impossible.
Léo had always been the quieter one.
Where Julien filled rooms with confidence, Léo seemed to apologize for taking up space.
At family dinners, he usually sat at the end of the table and listened while everyone else talked.
Julien often joked that his brother needed a personality upgrade.
Everyone laughed.
Even Léo.
I never liked those jokes.
But I never stopped them either.
That memory bothered me.
There were so many small moments I had ignored because they did not feel important at the time.
Small moments were where people usually hid the truth.
I typed a response.
“Why did Julien need the money?”
I waited.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, his answer came.
“Because he promised someone he could fix a problem that was never his to fix.”
I read the sentence twice.
“What problem?”
The reply took longer this time.
“Not over text.”
I looked at the clock.
12:17 a.m.
“Then call me.”
Another pause.
“No.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because if Julien sees my call history, I am finished.”
The words made my stomach tighten.
Not because they sounded dramatic.
Because they sounded scared.
“Léo, what are you talking about?”
A minute passed.
Then my phone rang.
Not from Léo.
From Julien.
I froze.
The timing was too perfect.
I looked toward the stairs.
The bedroom door remained closed.
The call continued vibrating in my hand.
I answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was sleepy.
“Why are you awake?”
I looked at the phone screen.
A message from Léo was still open behind the call.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I woke up.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
I waited.
Julien was never good at silence.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“What are you reading?”
I almost smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was obvious.
Julien was not asking about a book.
He was checking whether I was doing something else.
“Something about financial planning.”
That was not a lie.
It was also not the whole truth.
His voice changed slightly.
“Why?”
“Because I lost my job.”
“You are still thinking about that?”
I closed my eyes.
The sentence was almost unbelievable.
Almost.
“Yes, Julien.”
“I did not mean it like that.”
“You usually do not.”
He became quiet.
Then his tone softened.
“I am worried about you.”
The change was so sudden that it would have worked on me a month earlier.
Maybe even a week earlier.
But now I heard the space between his words.
“What are you worried about?”
“Everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like you feeling lost.”
I looked at the message from Léo.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
“I am not lost.”
“You do not have to pretend you are fine.”
“I am not pretending.”
“Juliette.”
There was something almost pleading in his voice.
It confused me.
Because I still loved him.
That was the most inconvenient part.
People liked to believe betrayal turns love off like a switch.
It does not.
Sometimes love stays in the room after trust leaves.
“I need to sleep,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
When the call ended, I waited five minutes before messaging Léo again.
“Call me tomorrow.”
His response came quickly.
I did not sleep much after that.
The next morning, Julien acted normal.
That was somehow worse.
He made coffee.
He complained about traffic.
He asked if I wanted him to pick up groceries.
A person watching from outside would have seen an ordinary married couple beginning an ordinary day.
That was the frightening thing about private disasters.
They rarely announced themselves.
They happened quietly while people still discussed dinner plans.
Around ten, Julien left for work.
I waited until his car disappeared from the driveway.
Then I called Daniel.
He answered after two rings.
“Something happened.”
It was not a question.
I told him about Léo.
When I finished, Daniel was quiet.
“Do not meet him alone.”
“I was not planning to.”
“Good.”
“You think he is dangerous?”
“I think frightened people can make unpredictable decisions.”
I looked out the window.
“I do not think Léo wants to hurt me.”
“You might be right.”
He paused.
“But wanting to help and being able to help are different things.”
That sentence stayed with me.
At noon, I met Léo at a small coffee shop twenty minutes from my house.
I chose the location because it was public.
I sat near the front window.
I kept my phone on the table.
Not because I wanted to record him.
Because I wanted a reminder that I had choices.
Léo arrived five minutes late.
He looked exhausted.
Not tired.
Exhausted.
His jacket was wrinkled.
His hair looked like he had run his hand through it too many times.
When he saw me, he stopped.
For a second, he looked like he might leave.
Then he sat down.
“You look like you hate me.”
I shook my head.
“I am trying to understand you.”
He looked down.
“That is worse.”
“Why?”
“Because I deserve anger more than understanding.”
I did not answer.
The waitress came by.
Neither of us ordered.
After she left, Léo rubbed his hands together.
“Julien does not know I am here.”
“I assumed.”
“He cannot know.”
“You said that already.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
The nervous repetition was unlike Julien.
That alone told me something.
“Start from the beginning.”
May you like
Léo looked through the window at people walking past.
“Three months ago, Julien came to me because he had a problem.”
