A year later, I landed a job with a respected government agency. I hadn't gone to any of the reunions since graduation, but my friend Aylin would sometimes bring things up in our conversations:

"Hey, Malani, do you remember Eric? You know, Amias's old pal."

Aylin quickly realized she might have hit a sensitive spot and cautiously watched my reaction. Seeing that I remained indifferent, she continued to chat cheerfully:

"He got matched for marriage right after graduation by his family, but guess what? He got caught at a wellness center a few days ago."

"And it happened during a police raid. Do you know what the officer said to him?"

"The officer said, 'Why do you keep showing up in these raids?'"

Aylin laughed so hard she could barely stand upright, and I had to hold her up. Eric had always been the wildest among Amias's friends, and he was also the one who used to make the most inappropriate jokes about me.

I should have seen it coming. If Amias could hang out with someone like Eric, what were the chances he was some upstanding guy? His reluctance to make our relationship public back then probably had to do with not wanting to scare off other potential interests.

To retrieve a certain file, I dug out my old phone.

Oddly enough, despite neglecting this number for over a year, it still had credit left. I opened the text messages and found almost a thousand waiting. Most were from an unknown number, but as I skimmed through, I quickly realized they were all from Amias.

Initially, his messages were cold and mocking, saying that if I ever needed him, he'd just ignore me.

After about a month, his tone softened, suggesting that if I came back, he'd forgive me.

Two months later, his messages turned anxious, repeatedly asking if something had happened to me.

The most recent one, sent three days ago, contained just four words: "I wish I hadn’t."

After reading a few, I stopped. Once I found the file I was looking for, I shut off the phone and tossed it aside.

Understanding Amias is like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. And honestly, I have no desire to figure him out.

I mulled over those messages while sipping my coffee, the aroma grounding me. Outside, the leaves were turning vibrant shades of orange and gold, hinting that Thanksgiving was around the corner. I thought about the holiday, wondering if the warmth of family gatherings would drown out the echoes of Amias's words.

My outfit matched the season—a simple dress with a touch of Victorian flair, yet modern. As I got ready to meet friends for dinner, the thought of pulled pork and spiced honey cake filled my mind, bringing comfort.

For a brief moment, I considered messaging Amias on WhatsApp, but quickly brushed off the idea. The Alps were calling, and I decided a hike would be perfect—far away from his perplexing messages and memories.