Chương 6
“Right now, no one has made a direct threat.”
“That’s not the same as safe.”
“No.”
He admitted it.
“That’s not the same.”
After we ended the call, I stood in the kitchen for several minutes without moving.
The coffee machine beeped behind me.
I had forgotten I started it.
The smell filled the room.
Normally, it was comforting.
That morning, it reminded me of another life.
One where mornings started with reports instead of school schedules.
One where silence before sunrise meant preparation instead of peace.
I poured the coffee into a mug and sat down at the table.
Then I opened my laptop.
I did not search my own name.
That was the first mistake people made when they were anxious.
They looked for reassurance.
They searched until they found something that made them more afraid.
Instead, I checked practical things.
My home security.
Recent messages.
Bank alerts.
School information.
Anything that involved Noah.
Nothing looked unusual.
That should have made me feel better.
It did not.
Because experience taught me that absence of evidence was not always evidence of absence.
A knock at the door interrupted me.
This time, it was Logan.
I almost did not open it.
Then I remembered something important.
Avoiding a problem did not make it smaller.
I opened the door halfway.
He stood there alone.
No camera.
No friends.
No audience.
That alone told me something had changed.
“Can I talk to you?”
I studied his face.
Yesterday, he had looked like someone performing.
Today, he looked tired.
“About what?”
He swallowed.
“About yesterday.”
I waited.
He looked uncomfortable.
That was probably the first apology he had ever tried to give without knowing what it was supposed to look like.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
The words came out quickly.
Almost like he wanted to get past them.
I did not rescue him.
People often apologized faster when they knew silence was waiting afterward.
“I embarrassed you,” he said.
“You tried to.”
He looked down.
“Yeah.”
That admission mattered.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because it was the first honest thing he had said to me.
“I was angry,” he said.
“At me?”
“At myself.”
I looked at him carefully.
He noticed.
“I know that sounds stupid.”
“It sounds human.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“My dad always says I need to be impressive.”
There was no pride in his voice.
Only exhaustion.
“He means well.”
“Maybe.”
Logan looked toward his house.
“He just doesn’t know how to say he’s proud unless I’m winning.”
The sentence surprised me.
Because underneath the arrogance was something familiar.
Pressure.
A person trying to prove they were worth something.
That did not excuse what he did.
But it explained where some of it came from.
“Why are you telling me this?”
He hesitated.
“Because after yesterday, I watched the video again.”
I frowned.
“The whole thing?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
He looked embarrassed.
“I looked like an idiot.”
“That realization is usually useful.”
A small smile appeared.
Then disappeared.
“Your son looked scared.”
That got my attention.
“He did.”
Logan nodded.
“I didn’t think about that.”
Most people did not.
They thought about the person they wanted to defeat.
Not the people watching.
Not the damage left behind.
“I owe him an apology too,” Logan said.
“That’s his decision.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
Good.
Because forgiveness was not something someone could demand.
“What do you want?”
He took a breath.
“To understand.”
The answer was quieter than I expected.
I opened the door wider.
Not as a sign of friendship.
Not yet.
Just a sign that the conversation could continue.
“Come in.”
He looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
For the first time since Logan moved next door, he laughed.
Not the loud laugh he used around other people.
A real one.
Small.
Almost uncomfortable.
As he stepped inside, my phone buzzed again.
I looked down.
A new message had arrived from an unknown number.
The words were short.
They were also enough to erase the small moment of peace that had entered the room.
You should have stayed invisible.
I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
The unknown number sat there like a door left open in the middle of the night.
No explanation.
No name.
No attempt to hide behind a longer sentence.
Just a warning.
You should have stayed invisible.
Logan noticed my expression change.
“What happened?”
I locked the phone.
“Nothing.”
He immediately looked unconvinced.
That was something I noticed about him.
He was not as unaware as people thought.
He had spent years performing confidence, but underneath it was someone constantly watching reactions.
“Claire.”
The way he said my name was different.
Less challenge.
More concern.
I looked at him.
“You came here to apologize.”
“Yeah.”
“Then apologize.”
He blinked.
“To Noah?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
He did not move.
That hesitation told me more than his words would have.
“Logan.”
“What?”
“You’re waiting for me to make this easier.”
He looked away.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“The truth.”
He gave a frustrated laugh.
“That’s the problem.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know if I’m good at that.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The honest answer was more uncomfortable than any excuse.
“Then start small,” I said.
“How?”
“Stop trying to sound like the person you think people respect.”
He looked at me.
“That’s what you did yesterday.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“That’s what you did.”
His eyebrows tightened.
“What?”
“You performed confidence.”
The room went quiet.
“I was scared.”
He looked surprised by my answer.
“Of me?”
“No.”
I looked at the phone sitting on the counter.
“Of what would happen if I stopped being careful.”
Logan did not respond.
Because for the first time, he was hearing something that had nothing to do with fighting.
May you like
Before he could speak, Noah walked into the kitchen.
He stopped when he saw Logan.
