We did not talk for a full minute after the last message. Not because there was nothing to say, but because the café had suddenly become too loud, too crowded, too full of people who were laughing and ordering pastries and living in a version of the day that had not just tilted sideways.
Julian was the first to move. He pushed his chair back slightly, not standing, just creating space, the way he did when he was thinking hard.
"Okay," he said, calm in a way that felt deliberate. "Before your phone buzzes again and ruins my ability to enjoy caffeine forever, we need to decide something."
I wrapped my fingers around the cup in front of me even though it was already empty. "Decide what?"
"Whether we treat this like a joke, a threat, or a problem we actually look at."
I glanced down at my phone, still face-up now, like I was daring it to say something else. "I was hoping for joke."
Julian's mouth twitched. "That ship sailed when they started naming nights."
"Plural," I said. "They said night. Singular."
"That is not the comforting detail you think it is."
I exhaled slowly. "You promised not to deflect."
"I know," he said. "And I'm not. I'm buying us time to do this without making it worse."
"Making what worse?"
"The part where you look at me like you're trying to decide if I've been lying to you since we met."
That landed harder than I expected.
"I don't think that," I said, too quickly.
Julian's eyes softened, which somehow made it worse. "You're thinking it. You're just being kind enough not to say it yet."
I stared at the table. There was a faint ring from where my glass had been earlier, like evidence of something already gone.
"Who is she?" I asked.
He did not ask me to clarify.
"Her name is Mira," Julian said. "We worked together. Briefly. It ended badly, but not dramatically, and not in the way this message wants you to imagine."
"That sounds rehearsed," I said.
"That's because I've had to explain it before," he replied. "Just never to you."
I looked up. "Why?"
He held my gaze. "Because it never felt relevant."
"Until now."
"Yes."
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown number: He didn't tell you about the voicemail.
Julian's eyes flicked to the screen. "That timing is annoying."
"What voicemail?" I asked.
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "Okay. That one I should have mentioned."
My stomach tightened. "Mentioned when?"
"Months ago," he said. "And before you spiral, it wasn't romantic. It was… angry."
"Angry how?"
"Accusatory," he said. "She blamed me for something that wasn't actually my fault, but I didn't correct her because correcting her would have reopened something I wanted to stay closed."
"That still sounds like something you should have told me."
"You're right," he said, without hesitation. "I should have."
That honesty disarmed me more than any excuse could have.
"So why now?" I asked. "Why would she suddenly start texting me?"
Julian frowned. "I don't think it's her."
I blinked. "What?"
"Mira doesn't do subtle," he said. "If she wanted to confront you, she'd do it directly. This feels like someone who knows pieces and wants control."
My phone buzzed again, as if offended by being discussed.
Unknown number: You don't see it yet. That's the problem.
I swallowed. "They're enjoying this."
"Yes," Julian said. "Which means the goal isn't truth. It's reaction."
Hannah chose that exact moment to appear, sliding into the empty chair like she had a sixth sense for chaos.
"Why do you both look like someone just canceled a wedding," she asked, then paused. "Do not answer that if the answer is yes."
I held up my phone. "Someone's been texting me."
Hannah leaned over, reading quickly. Her expression shifted, humor draining out of it in a way I rarely saw.
"That's not funny," she said.
"I know," I replied. "Which is new territory for us."
Julian gave her a brief summary. Hannah listened without interrupting, which told me how seriously she was taking it.
"This isn't random," she said finally. "Someone wants leverage."
"On who?" I asked.
She looked at Julian, then back at me. "That's the question."
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number: You think this is about him. It's not.
I stared at the words. "They say it's not about you."
Julian's jaw tightened. "That's worse."
Hannah straightened. "What do you mean worse?"
"Because if it's not about me," he said, "then it's about what I represent in her life."
"That sounds dramatic," Hannah said.
Julian met her gaze. "It usually starts that way."
The café door opened, letting in a rush of noise and cold air. I felt suddenly exposed, like the walls were too thin, like every stranger could see the messages glowing on my screen.
"I don't like this," I said. "I don't like not knowing where this is going."
Hannah reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You don't have to solve it today."
"I know," I said. "But I also don't want to pretend it didn't happen."
Julian leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Then we do this carefully."
"How?"
"We don't respond again," he said. "Not yet. We wait. We watch. And we don't let them rush us into decisions we wouldn't make otherwise."
"That requires trust," I said.
"Yes," he replied. "It does."
My phone buzzed one last time.
Unknown number: If you ask him tonight, he'll tell you the truth. The question is whether you're ready to hear it.
I looked up at Julian, heart pounding.
"Tonight?" I asked.
He held my gaze, unflinching.
"What do you want to ask me?" he said.