Page 47 of Hannah.
Dread settles in my chest as I absorb this new information. “But why? What’s in those papers that someone would want to steal them? Johan…what if you’re in danger?”
Johan’s expression darkens, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. “I don't know, but I promise you, I’ll find out. And I assure you, I’m not in any danger.”
He places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and though uncertainty lingers, Johan's reassurance provides some stability, keeping me from spiraling. I reach up to cover his hand with one of mine, letting his warmth seep into my palms, which have gone cold from worry. “I’d be lost without you, you know that?”
There’s a layered meaning to my words–on the surface, I’m talking about the Amelia mystery, but it’s so much more than that. I won’t tell him that out loud, but I hope so strongly that he hears the unspoken meaning anyway.
There is a clear fondness in his eyes as he rotates his hand so we’re palm to palm, interlacing our fingers and giving my hand a squeeze. “I’ll always be here for you.” After a long moment where we gaze into each other’s eyes, he carefully untangles his hand from mine and steps back. There’s a moment of disappointment, but what do I expect? I rejected him. We can’t be anything except friends.
“Do you want me to escort you back?” he asks, his voice gentle as he glances at his watch. “It’s getting late, and?—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m good.” I try to sound more confident than I feel. “You’ve already done a lot today. I’ll be fine.”
He nods, his eyes lingering on mine a moment longer. “Text me when you get home.” Something in his gaze makes my heart flutter—a mixture of longing and restraint as if he’s holding back a tide of emotions. He blinks abruptly, breaking the spell, andclears his throat. “I should get back to work,” he says, his tone suddenly brisk. “There’s still a lot to go through.”
I force a smile, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “Right. Of course.”
Johan gives me a final, searching look before turning back to his desk. I watch him, his shoulders tense with the weight of unspoken words. He sits down, already engrossed in the papers scattered before him. I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, and head toward the door.
As I reach the hallway, I pause and glance back. Johan is focused, but there’s a rigidity in his posture that speaks volumes. I can’t help but wonder if he’s as affected by all this as I am. With a sigh, I step out into the corridor, the quiet of the building amplifying the sound of my footsteps.
The walk back to my place feels longer than usual, the weight of the day pressing down on me. The city is calming down, but the streets of Cambridge are still lively. Students head to and from pubs, their laughter and chatter filling the air. The hustle and bustle contrasts sharply with the turmoil in my mind.
When I finally reach my door, I hesitate for a moment, the stillness of the night pressing in around me. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re standing on the edge of something monumental—something that could change everything. And through it all, Johan’s presence is a constant, his support unwavering.
Inside, I settle into bed, the emptiness of the room mirroring the emptiness I feel over the stolen research files. Most of Amelia’s work had been meticulously documented, and now, all those pieces of the puzzle are gone. The sense of loss is overwhelming.
My mind keeps drifting back to Johan. His touch, his words, the way he looked at me with such intensity—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. I push the thoughts asideand try to think logically about our next steps. We need to uncover who took the files and why. Minutes pass in a blur, the night deepening outside my window. The more I think, the more questions arise. Without the files, the full picture remains frustratingly out of reach. Suddenly, my phone buzzes, breaking the silence. It’s a message from Johan:Did you get home safely?
I reply quickly:Yes, I’m home. Thank you for checking.
His response is immediate:Goodnight, Hannah. Be safe.
I smile at the screen, a warmth spreading through me. No matter what happens, I know we’re in this together.
15
Johan
The afternoon lumbers along,routine tasks tethering me to my desk. Every chance I get, I pull away and try to do some research on the Amelia mystery, but there isn’t as much time as I’d like today.
I’m preparing my next lecture when a gentle tap on the office door interrupts the monotony. I look up, and my heart sinks when I see that it’s the security guard I spoke to just a few days ago about the missing piece from the exhibition. I had hoped it’d have taken him longer to get back to me, but here we are.
“Come in,” I tell him reluctantly, trying to hide how much I wish he’d just leave. “Please, have a seat.”
Oblivious to how I’m feeling, he comes in and sits in one of the other empty chairs in the room. “We’ve had a sit-down with the folks who were present around when the artifact vanished,” he begins, keeping his tone steady. “We toured their dorms, turned everything upside down, and came up empty-handed.”
I lean back, running a hand through my hair. “Nothing? That's not the news I was hoping for.” Internally, I alreadyknew that it was a distinct possibility that neither man stole the artifact, but the other possibility is too terrible to consider unless it’s a last resort.
He nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it's frustrating. But we did discover something while doing the investigation.” He pauses, gauging my reaction. “This appears to have happened one other time on campus.”
I can't help but sigh. “Another theft? Where?”
“Ah, I believe it was the odd objects expo.” He leans in a bit, lowering his voice. “Seems like it's turning into a trend, and we’re doing our best to suss out the pattern.”
I drum my fingers on the desk, frustration simmering. I’m very familiar with the event he’s talking about—it’s Astrid’s expo, after all. “I’m familiar with that exhibition. How many pieces are we talking about here?”
He glances around, checking for eavesdroppers. “Just the two so far. We’re sniffing around, trying to get a handle on it.”