"Giny," Jayna said, tilting her head as if the thought had been sitting on her tongue for a while, "what if we go watch a movie tonight? Something romantic. I'll look it up later."
Her eyes flicked sideways, bright with that familiar mischief. "We should go for a midnight showing. Maybe it'll be so late the whole theater's basically ours. And besides—" she laughed, sounding absurdly proud of it, "I was born around midnight, so it fits."
Ginevra smiled at her. "At twelve?"
"Mhm." Jayna nodded. "Ms. Rose told me. So my birthday is kind of special—one minute earlier and it's the day before." She winked as if she'd discovered a loophole in the universe. "So if we watch a midnight movie tonight, it counts as celebrating me."
As she spoke, her gaze dropped again to her wrist.
To the bracelet.
It glittered faintly every time she moved, like a small, stubborn star refusing to dim. Jayna looked at it the way people looked at things they were afraid might disappear if they blinked too hard—softly, greedily, with helpless joy.
It was a good idea, Ginevra thought. She was just about to agree—
When Jayna's phone rang.
Jayna glanced down.
Mr. Carter.
Her driver.
Why was he calling now?
She picked up, still confused. "Mr. Carter?"
"Jayna—where are you?" His voice came out urgent, tight with a kind of fear he didn't usually show.
"…I'm out," Jayna said slowly. "I'm hanging out."
"I need your address. Now. I'm coming to get you." The words landed like a command, and behind them was something shaking.
Jayna's chest tightened. "What's going on?"
There was a pause on the line—too long, too heavy.
Then, bluntly: "Something happened at home. Your dad told me to pick you up. Send your location. Immediately."
Something happened at home.
Jayna felt her heartbeat stumble.
With trembling fingers, she sent her location, then hurriedly kept the call open, voice rising with panic. "What happened? What about my dad? Is he okay? Is it serious? Tell me!"
On the other end, Mr. Carter went quiet again. When he spoke, he dodged the center of it—saying only things like don't panic and it'll be okay, wrapping the truth in dull cotton.
And then he hung up.
Jayna sat frozen, anxiety spilling over her face. Her body couldn't settle—she looked like she wanted to stand, run, do something, anything.
Ginevra hadn't heard the whole call, only pieces, only the urgency.
"What is it?" she asked, voice low, trying to anchor her.
Jayna stared at her phone, bewildered and scared. "Mr. Carter said something happened at home. He told me to go back right away. I don't even know what happened—he wouldn't say. When I left earlier, everything was fine…"
"I'll take you home," Ginevra said immediately, already moving to stand.
Jayna grabbed her sleeve. "No—Mr. Carter's coming to get me. He sounded really urgent."
"Oh." Ginevra nodded.
And in her eyes, a tiny flicker dimmed.
A loss she didn't quite know how to hide.
Jayna caught it—of course she did. She always caught the smallest changes in Ginevra, because she was always watching.
So Jayna smiled, trying to soothe her as much as herself.
"Giny," she said gently, "wait for me, okay? I think I'll be back soon. Don't worry."
Ginevra looked at her—at the smile Jayna was forcing into place—and nodded.
"I'll wait."
"Good." Jayna tapped Ginevra's forehead lightly, half teasing, half affectionate. "Be good and wait. We still have to watch that movie tonight. You can look up what's playing while I'm gone, okay? We'll decide together. It's probably Ms. Rose making a big deal out of nothing—she always does that. The moment anything happens, she wants me home…"
Jayna glanced down at the bracelet again, worry pricking her. She started to remove it, as if she should put it back in its box so it wouldn't get scratched.
But Ginevra stopped her so fast it was almost a flinch.
"No," she said, and the word carried a trace of panic she couldn't fully hide.
Jayna blinked.
Ginevra's gaze stayed locked on the bracelet, then lifted—quietly pleading.
"Didn't you say you'd keep it on?"
Jayna looked into Ginevra's eyes.
The hope in them was too honest.
So she didn't take it off.
"I'm just scared it'll get scratched," Jayna admitted softly. "It would hurt to see it damaged." Then she smiled and nodded as if promising something sacred. "Okay… I'll keep it on. I'll keep wearing it."
She lifted her wrist slightly, letting the charm catch the light for Ginevra.
"If it gets scratched," Ginevra said, almost without thinking, "I can buy you another one later. I'll give you something else."
Jayna stared.
That sentence—so simple—held something dangerous inside it. Something that could be misunderstood. Something that could make her heart run away from her.
She shook her head quickly, smiling. "It won't. I'll protect it. This is the first gift you've ever given me. I'll protect it."
Because she had promised.
And with Ginevra, Jayna wanted to keep her promises. Even the impossible ones.
Not long after, Mr. Carter's car pulled up in front of the café. Jayna had no choice but to say a quick goodbye.
As she reached for the door, Ginevra suddenly called her name.
"Jayna."
Jayna paused halfway, leaning out of the car with the door still open, peeking her head out in that cute, careless way she always did.
"Yeah?"
Ginevra stared at her for a long moment. As if memorizing her. As if collecting something she didn't know how to keep.
Then, softly—so softly—
"I'll wait for you."
Jayna froze.
Then she nodded quickly, as if she needed to make the promise real by agreeing out loud.
"Okay. I'll be back soon."
She smiled.
Just a small smile.
But it was enough.
It was enough to make Ginevra fall completely, without rescue, without resistance.
"Jayna," Mr. Carter asked as he drove, cracking the window and lighting a cigarette, "did you two say goodbye properly?"
Jayna buckled her seatbelt and glanced at him strangely. "Goodbye? Why would we say goodbye? I told her I'd be back soon. We still have stuff to do tonight."
Mr. Carter only said, "Mm," and drove in silence.
But the moment Jayna settled into the seat, she noticed something that made her stomach turn.
Her father's private physician was in the car, too.
A man who normally stayed by Mr. Stevens' side.
Jayna's throat tightened. "Mr. Carter… what actually happened at home?"
Mr. Carter didn't answer right away.
He yanked the handbrake down and accelerated so sharply Jayna almost hit her head.
"Mr. Carter!" Jayna grabbed the overhead handle, furious and frightened at once. "What's wrong with you? You're driving way too fast. And—this isn't even the way home!"
The car surged over the Jersey Bridge.
Jayna's unease exploded into certainty.
This road—
This was the route to the airport.
Her breath went thin.
"Mr. Carter," she whispered, "where are you taking me?"
He exhaled smoke, his face carved into something older than it had been yesterday.
"Jayna," he said, voice rough, "I can only tell you this: your dad's in trouble. And you have to leave for a while."
Jayna stared at him as if she couldn't understand the language.
Then she shook her head hard, frantic. "You're joking. It's my birthday. You're all teaming up to prank me, right?"
No one answered.
The silence pressed against her ears until she couldn't breathe.
"Mr. Carter," Jayna begged, voice breaking, "don't lie to me. Lying isn't funny. My dad was fine this morning. How could he—how could this—"
"He wasn't fine," Mr. Carter snapped suddenly, voice rising. "He just didn't want you to worry!"
The words hit Jayna like a slap.
Mr. Carter's hands clenched on the steering wheel. His eyes fixed on the road ahead as if looking away would make him fall apart.
"A chemical plant incident," he said, each word heavy as stone. "People died. Your dad has to take responsibility. And it might drag you in, too. Even if someone set him up, the situation is bad right now. There aren't choices." His voice broke slightly. "You can't get hurt. Not you."
Jayna's heart contracted painfully.
"So…" she whispered, trembling. "You're… making me leave?"
"Yes." This time, the doctor in the back seat spoke—quiet, helpless. "You have to go. If you're safe, Mr. Stevens has no weakness to be used against him. He told us we have to protect you." The doctor sighed. "You're the only thing he can't let go of."
He opened a metal case and handed Jayna a box.
Inside were documents.
An ID. A visa. A passport.
Bankbooks. Cards.
And a photograph—
A picture of Jayna and her father together.
Jayna stared.
Then she covered her face with both hands.
Her fingers shook so badly she could barely hold herself.
It was too sudden.
Too cruel.
She had just… had a birthday.
How could this happen on the day she was supposed to be happy?
How could this be real?
"Mr. Carter…" Jayna's voice fell apart into something small and lost. "I…"
She couldn't accept it. She kept waiting for someone to laugh and tell her it was a joke, a birthday stunt, that they'd all celebrate together tonight.
But the car kept rushing forward.
And the air kept thickening with truth.
"Jayna," Mr. Carter said, voice final, "you must go. Your flight is this midnight. Someone will meet you. They won't find you."
"You think I'll go?" Jayna turned wild, tears spilling. "How can I just go? I won't. I can't. I won't!"
Her breath hitched into sobs.
There were people she still needed to see.
Her father.
And Ginevra.
Ginevra was waiting for her.
She hadn't even said goodbye.
She hadn't told her—she hadn't told her how much she loved her, how she couldn't stand the thought of leaving her behind—
She couldn't leave.
She couldn't.
"I don't want to go," Jayna cried, reaching for the door handle like a desperate animal, trying to claw her way out of the moving car. "This is wrong. I want to go back. I want to go back!"
The doors were locked.
Of course they were.
Mr. Carter had known her since she was little. He knew she would never obey quietly.
Jayna fought anyway, shaking, sobbing, pounding helplessly—
"Jayna," the doctor murmured, and there was sorrow in his voice, "I'm sorry."
A hand pinned her shoulders.
A sharp sting pierced the back of her neck.
Jayna froze, her body flooding with a strange heaviness, as if the world were turning to water.
"No…" she gasped, tears sliding down. She looked toward the doctor with desperate hatred and pleading tangled together. "Please. Let me go back. I still have so much I haven't done…"
Because she knew—she knew—
Once she left, she might never see the people she loved again.
Mr. Carter's eyes glistened. He didn't look at her. He couldn't bear it.
He reached into Jayna's bag, pulled out her phone, and removed the SIM card. He crushed it between his fingers.
Then he threw it into the rushing river below.
"Look—look!" someone outside the café shouted. "It's snowing!"
Ginevra lifted her head.
Beyond the window, the sky had turned pale and blurred. Snowflakes drifted down—slow, careful, almost unreal—like the world was trying to be gentle for once.
"It's snowing! The first snow of the year!"
"First snow—quick, take a picture!"
"It's so pretty!"
People around her burst into delighted movement, raising phones, capturing the moment before it could pass.
Ginevra stared at the falling snow, stunned.
It came—exactly like Jayna had said.
First snow.
As if the world were mocking her with timing.
Ginevra wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup and murmured under her breath, a private blessing that no one else could hear:
"Jayna… happy birthday."
She traced the rim absently with her thumb—
And suddenly, pain flashed.
Sharp.
The cup's edge had cracked—an invisible split, cruel and sudden—and it sliced her fingertip.
Ginevra stared.
The cup had been whole.
She pressed a napkin to her finger until the blood stopped.
But the uneasy feeling didn't stop.
It surged.
A violent, irrational dread rose up and wrapped itself around her spine.
Something's wrong.
Jayna… something happened to her.
No.
She forced herself to breathe.
Jayna had left with Mr. Carter.
She'd promised she'd be back.
Ginevra clung to that promise the way people clung to prayer.
She stared at the clock.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Then more.
The snow thickened outside, turning the city soft and white.
And still—
No Jayna.
…
"Miss," a staff member finally approached quietly. "We're closing soon. Your friend…?"
Ginevra looked up as if waking from a dream.
"I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."
The manager's face softened. She'd watched this girl sit here for hours, unmoving, expression slowly hollowing out.
"If you can," the manager suggested gently, "call your friend. Ask if she's coming."
Ginevra didn't answer.
Because she had called.
Again and again.
No one picked up.
She left the cafe.
She didn't even know how she rode the scooter afterward. The streets blurred. The cold didn't register.
And then—without realizing she'd chosen it—she found herself stopped at the gates of Gardencrest Residences.
She told herself it was only because she was worried.
Only because she needed to check.
It was already night.
But the entrance was bright, crowded—lined with black vehicles. Gloved workers moved in and out, carrying boxes and equipment, faces stern, bodies armored.
Ginevra's instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
She jumped off the scooter and ran closer.
And then she saw it—
Two men carrying a white piano.
A white piano she knew.
Jayna's.
Ginevra's vision narrowed.
She tried to push forward—
A worker blocked her.
Ginevra stood frozen as more things were carried out—valuable items, heavy cases, pieces of a life being dismantled in silence while everyone around pretended not to speak.
In the crowd, she spotted Captain Thor.
She recognized him instantly.
Ginevra rushed to him. "Captain—what happened? What is this?"
Captain Thor had a cigarette in his mouth. When he turned and saw her, his expression tightened.
He knew her.
He remembered her—Jayna's close classmate, the one with frightening strength.
He pulled her aside quickly, using the noise and bodies as cover.
He shook his head hard.
Not here.
Not loudly.
"You're here for her, right?" he asked, voice low, resigned.
"Yes." Ginevra's throat tightened. She looked toward the blazing lights and moving shadows behind the gate. "Can you tell me what happened to Jayna's family—"
Captain Thor exhaled slowly.
"Her father's in trouble," he said, eyes shadowed. "Something involving deaths. Sounds serious." He paused, then added, "As for your friend… I don't know. I heard she left overnight. No one knows where she went."
Ginevra's stomach dropped.
Captain Thor continued, voice thick with bleak amazement. "This afternoon people were already asking questions—at her house, even at school. That's just what I heard. But you know how it is—Mr. Stevens will do anything to protect his only daughter. For the rest of us, we can only watch." He glanced around at the chaos. "Look at this place… who would've thought it would end like this?"
Ginevra couldn't move.
Now she understood why Mr. Carter had come personally.
Now she understood why no one answered the phone.
She stood in the cold snow, the white world turning harsh and unreal.
After a long time, her lips trembled.
And she whispered, barely audible:
"It's good she left. It's good…"
Only then did she realize tears were sliding down her cheeks—silent, unstoppable.
Captain Thor looked at her with shock. This girl was nothing like the one he'd seen before.
Her face now was too broken to look at.
"You…" he hesitated. "Are you okay?"
Ginevra wiped her eyes quickly, as if ashamed of them.
She shook her head.
And turned away.
She walked.
Snow drifted around her. Wind slapped her cheeks cold. She moved like a ghost down the streets, the world bright with first-snow joy while something inside her collapsed into darkness.
Loneliness.
Fear.
A numb, wandering confusion so deep it made her bones feel hollow.
She didn't even know why she ended up here—
On the bridge that led toward the airport.
Streetlights flickered on, one by one, casting pale halos like ropes of soft light trying to guide people home.
So many windows glowed.
But none of them were lit for her.
Everyone she passed looked happy, faces turned upward to the snow, smiles blooming like heat in the cold.
Of course.
It was the first snow.
And then—like a knife turned slowly—
Jayna's voice returned in fragments.
Let's watch a movie tonight. A romantic one.Maybe it'll just be the two of us.Be good and wait for me.I'll be back soon.
Ginevra's breath shook.
A sound slipped out of her throat—small, broken, unbearable.
Jayna was gone.
Yes.
Gone.
Ginevra could understand.
Even without a goodbye… she could understand.
She could.
But understanding didn't numb the raw nerve inside her.
"You're gone," she whispered, voice cracking, "so what am I supposed to do? How can you—how can you do this to me? You told me to wait. You told me you'd come back…"
She walked until her legs failed.
Until exhaustion hollowed her out.
Then she sank to her knees on the bridge, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping her from falling into the river below.
Her head bowed.
Her hands shook as she dialed that number again and again.
A dead call.
A silence.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And finally, the grief she'd been holding back tore through her like a scream.
Ginevra sobbed so hard she couldn't breathe.
Tears fell in heavy drops, blurring the snow-lit world.
She cried out loud—loud enough that strangers turned their heads, startled by the sound of a girl unraveling in the middle of a beautiful night.
"Jayna…" she choked, voice ragged with agony, "what am I supposed to do…"
Don't leave me alone.
Her crying seemed to shake the air around her, as if it carried something too large to be contained—some great, buried sorrow that no one passing by could name.
They could only see a girl on the Jersey Bridge, on the first-snow night, collapsed under a grief that looked like it might swallow her whole.
And none of them could know—
That from this moment on, she had lost the most important person in her life.