Mark's room was always pristine—a quiet reflection of the way he lived his life, or so I thought. Even as I sat in Monica's room below, I could picture it clearly: the neat stacks of notebooks on his desk, the bookshelves meticulously arranged, the bed always perfectly made. Jacqueline had teased him about it before, calling him a "neat freak," but there was something comforting about that orderliness.
Upstairs, I imagined Anushka taking it all in as Mark pulled out his chair for her.
"Nice setup," Anushka said, running her fingers lightly along the edge of his desk. "Clean. Minimal. Very... you."
"Is that a compliment or an observation?" Mark teased, settling into the seat beside her.
Anushka smiled, pulling her laptop from her bag and placing it on the desk. "Both. Honestly, though, I didn't peg you for the 'everything-in-its-place' type."
Mark shrugged. "Helps me think. Clutter's distracting."
"Fair enough." She powered up her laptop and began typing, the faint hum of the machine filling the silence. "Okay, let's get into it. This is everything I managed to extract from Dr. Otim's phone. Messages, call logs, and even the phone's storage. It's all here."
Mark leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the screen. "Let's see what we've got."
Anushka started with the call logs. "Nothing out of the ordinary here—except for this." She pointed to a number that stood out from the rest.
Mark squinted at the screen. "What's strange about it?"
"It's called multiple times," Anushka explained, "but never answered. Not once."
Mark frowned. "A burner?"
"Maybe," Anushka replied, scrolling through the list. "Or maybe it's someone he's trying to avoid and doesn't want to be contacted."
"Could be nothing," Mark said thoughtfully. "But it's worth keeping an eye on. What else do we have?"
Anushka navigated to the messages folder. "No smoking gun here," she admitted, scrolling through the texts. "Mostly logistics. Meetings, reminders, that sort of thing. But then there's this…" She opened a thread of messages that made her pause.
Mark leaned closer, his brows furrowing as he read the screen. "Large sums of money?"
"Transferred to an account in small, calculated intervals," Anushka confirmed. "It's not directly incriminating, but it's suspicious. Why would Dr. Otim be receiving money like this?"
Mark sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "Whoever's sending it is careful enough not to leave any details in the messages. No names, no explanations. Just numbers."
Anushka nodded. "They're covering their tracks. But even this pattern could be enough to raise a red flag."
"What about his storage?" Mark asked.
"Nothing useful so far," Anushka replied. "But we've still got remote access. We can monitor his phone in real-time and see if anything new pops up."
Mark nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Alright. Let's keep watching. In the meantime, we'll dig into that number. Maybe there's a connection we're not seeing yet."
For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the laptop. Then Anushka broke the silence.
"Do you think we'll find anything?" she asked, her voice softer now.
Mark looked at her, his expression softened. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we have to try."
Anushka nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "You're right. We'll find something. We have to."
Mark's room had grown quiet again, the tension from their earlier discoveries fading into a more intimate stillness. The laptop sat forgotten on the desk, its screen dimming as if even it sensed that the conversation had shifted.
"Ruhi," Mark said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "Can I ask you something?"
She looked up from her phone, her expression curious. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
"Are you… seeing anyone?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. Her lips parted slightly as if she wasn't sure she'd heard him right. Then she laughed—soft, almost self-conscious.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I've never dated anyone."
Mark's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing. Anushka took a deep breath and continued. "I guess I've just never found the time… or the right person. And honestly, relationships seem complicated."
Mark leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. "That's fair," he said. "But I wouldn't write them off completely. When it's right… it doesn't feel complicated."
She tilted her head, studying him. "What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"
For the first time, Mark didn't deflect the question or change the subject. Instead, his gaze dropped to the floor, and he let out a slow breath.
"I'm not," he said quietly. "I haven't been for a long time."
Anushka didn't press him, but her silence seemed to encourage him to continue.
"There was someone, though," he said after a moment. "Rebecah." He said her name softly like it was both a memory and a wound. "We were… everything. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with her. I'd even bought the ring. We were planning to go on a trip together—just a small getaway to celebrate."
Anushka listened intently, her eyes searching his face for the emotions he was trying to mask.
"But…" His voice faltered, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "I had something to finish at work that day. I told her to go ahead without me, and that I'd catch up later. I thought it'd be fine. But on the way there…" He paused, swallowing hard. "There was an accident. She didn't make it."
The weight of his words hung in the air like a storm cloud. Anushka's breath caught in her throat, and her chest tightened as she watched the pain flicker across his face.
"I've thought about it so many times," Mark said, his voice cracking. "If I hadn't gone to the office… if I'd just gone with her instead… maybe she'd still be here."
His hands gripped the edge of the desk. "I can't change it. But I regret it every single day."
Anushka didn't realize she was moving until she was standing in front of him. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. For a moment, he didn't move, but then he let out a shuddering breath and leaned into her embrace, his head resting lightly on her shoulder.
The hug wasn't planned, wasn't calculated. It was instinctive, a silent exchange of empathy and understanding.
Neither of them noticed the soft creak of the door opening.
The sound broke through the quiet moment, and they both turned toward the doorway, startled.