As I walked down the marble hallway, I stopped at the living room entrance and saw Harley with a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring off in a daze.
He was about to take another sip when he noticed me standing there. "You're home unusually late."
I walked into the living room and sat down beside him, placing my purse on the floor by my feet. I looked at him. "I went out for supper with a friend."
"Sasha?"
"No. Her brother, Samuel," I corrected.
His expression shifted almost instantly, but I disregarded it and continued. "I met him while I was studying in England."
"…"
"He's really nice. You'll like him."
"I already don't like him," Harley muttered under his breath before taking the last sip of his whiskey.
He stood up and walked past me, heading toward the door. As he exited the room, he glanced over his shoulder. "Good night."
"Harley," I said, standing up and turning to face him. "I'm sorry if I said or did something wrong while we were in Paris. But can we go back to how we were? I don't want us to drift away again."
Harley turned around, his hands resting loosely in his pockets. Something flickered in his eyes too quickly to catch. He took a few steps forward, closing the gap between us.
"Do you remember what happened after we left Café Minuit?" he asked.
After thinking for a moment, I shook my head. "Not really. Did something happen?"
"No."
"Liar," I said.
His jaw tightened slightly, even though he tried to hide it.
"Something did happen, or you wouldn't be acting like this. Just tell me."
"Figure it out yourself," Harley said, turning to leave.
"Har—"
The doorbell rang, cutting me off.
I followed after him toward the front door. When he opened it, I leaned slightly to the side and saw Samuel standing there.
"Samuel?"
"Oh, Sophie," he said, looking past Harley at me. He held up my bag. "You forgot your scrubs and stethoscope in my car."
I walked past Harley and took it from him. "Thank you. I would have been panicking tomorrow morning."
Samuel chuckled. "You would have been fine. I would've just given it to Sasha."
"Yeah," I replied. "Only problem is, she's off tomorrow."
I was so caught up in my conversation with Samuel that I forgot Harley was standing behind me, which explained my surprise when he cleared his throat.
I stepped aside and looked between them. "Samuel, this is Harley, my childhood friend. Harley, this is Samuel, my classmate from England."
I watched as they shook hands. Samuel smiled politely, while Harley's expression remained distant, almost annoyed.
Talk about rude. I would have to apologize to Samuel later.
After Samuel left, I turned to Harley, irritation creeping into my expression. "Would it kill you to be nice? Samuel is a nice person."
"Don't bring up his name around me again," Harley said coldly before walking back into the mansion.
I chased after him, closing the door behind me. "Hey. I'm not done talking to you."
I followed him up the stairs toward the bedrooms.
He walked into his room and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me standing there—confused.
I pushed my door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind me. The click of the lock echoed faintly in the room, louder than it should have been.
For a moment, I didn't move.
The silence settled in almost immediately, heavy and unfamiliar in a way that made my chest tighten. Just minutes ago, everything had felt loud—tense, sharp, impossible to ignore. Now, it was the complete opposite.
Too quiet.
I let out a slow breath and walked further into the room, slipping my bag off my shoulder and setting it down on the chair by the desk. My fingers lingered on the strap for a second longer than necessary before I finally let go.
Harley's words replayed in my head without warning.
Figure it out yourself.
I frowned slightly, my grip tightening as I pulled my coat off and draped it over the back of the chair. "What am I supposed to figure out?" I muttered under my breath, the question sounding just as pointless out loud as it did in my head.
I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands resting loosely in my lap as I stared at nothing in particular.
The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.
He was upset. That much was obvious. But about what?
I tried to replay the night in Paris again, searching for something I might have missed—something that would explain the way he had been acting ever since we got back.
But there was nothing.
Just fragments.
Blurred pieces that didn't quite connect.
I exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers lightly against my temple. "This doesn't make any sense…"
After racking my brain for what seemed like an eternity, I decided to call it a night and climbed into my warm, cozy bed.
As soon as I pulled the duvet up to my chin, sleep claimed me, with tonight's events fading into distant memory.
But even as my body relaxed, my mind didn't fully quiet.
Fragments of the night drifted back in pieces—Harley's voice, sharp and restrained, the look in his eyes when he told me to figure it out myself. Then, just as quickly, the memory shifted.
Samuel's laugh. The easy way our conversation flowed. The warmth that didn't feel forced.
I frowned slightly against the pillow, my brows pulling together as something twisted faintly in my chest.
Why did that feel so different?
The question lingered, quiet but persistent, as if it was trying to pull something to the surface that I still couldn't quite reach.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure if what unsettled me more was what I couldn't remember…
Or how easy it had been to forget it, even for a moment.