The days that followed our heartfelt walk were painted in shades of uncertainty.
Even though Saraph had promised to stand by me, and I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't let Daniel's betrayal consume me, a lingering sense of incompleteness gnawed at my chest.
There was something off, something neither of us could fully understand.
Saraph noticed it too.
"Nuella," she said one evening as we sat on the steps outside my apartment, sipping on lukewarm drinks, "you didn't see anything, right? You said he acted distant.
That's all?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah… But it wasn't just distance, Saraph.
It was like he was hiding something. His whole energy was different, distant, cold, even a bit guilty.
And when I asked what was wrong, he deflected.
He looked at me like a stranger."
Saraph's brows furrowed as she took a thoughtful sip. "You know what? Let's dig into this.
Something doesn't add up, and I hate the feeling of being kept in the dark.
I'll help you get to the bottom of this, no matter how long it takes."
I gave her a weary smile, grateful yet skeptical. "What if there's nothing to find, Saraph? What if this is just… me being too hopeful?"
She turned to me, her expression firm. "Then we'll confirm that.
But if there is anything off, we'll find it.
Nobody changes that suddenly without a reason."
And so we began our quiet investigation, like two detectives with hearts too bruised to be objective but too determined to be silent.
We started simple, scrolling through social media, watching for any subtle clues.
Daniel's accounts were unusually quiet. No new pictures, no status updates, no tagged posts. It was as if he had gone invisible.
"See? This isn't normal," Saraph muttered one afternoon, staring at his blank timeline.
"He used to post everything: sunsets, lunch, your selfies. But now? Nothing."
"I noticed that too," I whispered. "It's like he erased everything."
We reached out to a couple of his friends, casually asking if they'd seen him around.
Most said no. Some mentioned he hadn't been showing up at places he normally would.
"He's not been to practice," one friend said. "Didn't even show up to the last game.
Something's going on, but no one knows what."
Saraph and I exchanged a look.
"That's another dead end," I sighed, flopping onto my bed later that night. "Every lead leads nowhere."
Saraph, lying beside me with a notebook full of our notes and scribbles, sighed too.
"It's like he's deliberately ghosting the world."
"Or hiding," I added.
She turned toward me, resting on her elbow. "You know, Nuella… maybe this isn't about you.
Maybe something's happening in his life, something big, and he doesn't know how to handle it."
I stared at the ceiling in silence, replaying every moment of our last encounters.
The way he avoided my eyes. The way he ended the call was abrupt.
The silence.
The way his hand trembled just slightly when I reached for his.
"But even if it's something personal… why not tell me? We were so close."
"That's the thing about people," Saraph murmured, "even the ones we love sometimes don't know how to let us in when they need us most."
We continued our quiet efforts for the next few days. We passed by his neighborhood more than once, hoping to catch a glimpse. Nothing.
It was as though Daniel was both everywhere and nowhere.
It was frustrating.
And painful.
Every unanswered question felt like a jab to my already aching heart.
One evening, after another failed attempt to reach anyone who could give us answers, I slumped on the couch and muttered, "Maybe he's just done, Saraph.
Maybe this was his way of leaving, slowly fading out."
Saraph knelt in front of me and held my hands.
"No," she said with conviction. "People don't fade out this way unless they're running from something.
You said he didn't seem cruel, just distant. There's a difference. Nuella, I believe you.
And I believe there's more to this."
Tears welled in my eyes, not just from the pain, but from her loyalty.
"I don't know if I should keep hoping," I whispered.
"That's okay," she said gently. "Let me hope for you.
Let me do the looking until you're strong enough to try again."
And in that moment, I felt seen. Heard. Loved.
That night, I went to sleep still broken, still unsure, but with a flicker of something small and persistent growing in my chest.
Hope.
Saraph wasn't giving up.
And maybe, just maybe, neither was Daniel.
Whatever the truth was buried under the silence, behind the closed doors of his life, we would find it.
And when we did, whether it brought closure or another heartbreak, at least we'd know.
At least we'd face the truth together.