Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

Lauren brushed her hair aside, folded the note, and tucked it into her phone case. She slipped it into the pocket behind her phone, a tiny keepsake to hold onto.

Her phone had been on silent during the show taping, and she hadn’t checked it. Now, opening it, she found two messages from her assistant, and the rest were a barrage of calls and texts from Mike. She scrolled through the notifications, rolling her eyes at Mike’s string of exclamation points.

She replied, "What’s up, Mike?"

She added a winking emoji, trying to lighten the mood. The phone buzzed almost immediately.

He responded quickly: "You little troublemaker, you’re at it again!"

She could almost hear his exasperated voice through the screen. She grinned, imagining him pacing his tiny office, coffee in hand.

Lauren smiled and replied, "Eating forbidden fruit."

She grinned, imagining his confused reaction. She pictured him spitting out his coffee in surprise.

"?"

He sent back a question mark, followed by a flurry of confused emojis. She laughed, shaking her head.

"Send me your location. I’ll come see if you’re still alive."

She sent it.

She dropped her pin, then started gathering her things to head downstairs. She glanced in the mirror, smoothing her hair and adjusting her mask.

Mike: "Ten minutes."

He never could resist a mystery.

Lauren checked the time, threw on a coat, grabbed a mask to cover her face, and headed downstairs to wait. She paused at the mirror, making sure the mask covered her features, then slipped into her sneakers and headed out.

Unexpectedly, the door was locked from the outside.

She rattled the handle, frowning in confusion. She pressed the handle a few times, then glanced around for a spare key.

Why did Evan lock it from the outside? Was it a habit, or...

She bit her lip, recalling little details from their past—Evan’s tendency to double-check locks, his fear of losing her again. The memory made her chest ache.

Something else?

She stared at the lock, her mind racing. Was he trying to protect her, or was it something deeper? She pressed her palm to the door, feeling the cool metal beneath her skin.

She held the handle, remembering that small rented room in Maple Heights, the gift Evan had asked for after his SATs, the chain, the yellow rose. The nostalgia was bittersweet.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her, mingled with a hint of sadness.

Evan was still Evan—gentle, yet possessive.

She smiled ruefully, shaking her head. Some things never changed. She traced a finger along the doorframe, lost in thought.

Lauren lowered her eyes in thought, as if making a decision. She took a deep breath, white energy gathering in her palm, and the door slowly opened. She stepped out, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one saw.

She slipped out quietly, careful not to disturb the neighbors. The hallway smelled faintly of fresh paint and old carpet.

Mike, perhaps worried about her, asked a few questions and was about to leave.

He eyed her up and down, checking for signs of trouble. He crossed his arms, leaning against his battered Ford.

"Mike, wait."

She caught his arm, her expression serious. The wind whipped her hair around her face.

"What now?" He turned back.

He raised an eyebrow, sensing the gravity in her voice. He shoved his hands in his pockets, bracing for bad news.

Lauren looked serious. "I might not do this job anymore. I wanted to tell you first, not just disappear."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for his reaction. The city’s bustle seemed to pause around them.

To say goodbye for Lauren.

She wanted to leave things right—with honesty and gratitude. She looked him in the eye, her voice steady.

"Don’t pull that on me—did you get in trouble again?" Mike sounded skeptical.

He crossed his arms, studying her face for clues. His mouth twitched, half-amused, half-worried.