The docks felt colder after the man left.
The wind pushed hard against the water, making the waves slap against the concrete barrier in uneven bursts. Somewhere in the distance, metal chains clanged softly against a container wall.
Arman and Samantha stood in silence.
The place suddenly felt too big.
Too empty.
Like the truth had just slipped deeper into the shadows.
Arman rubbed the back of his neck and let out a slow breath.
"Well," he muttered.
"That went terribly."
Samantha didn't respond.
Her eyes were still fixed on the dark space between the containers where the man had disappeared.
Something was happening inside her mind.
Arman noticed.
"Samantha?"
She didn't move.
Her expression had gone distant.
Focused somewhere far beyond the docks.
"Samantha," he said again, softer this time.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"I remember the truck."
Arman straightened immediately.
"What truck?"
"The one outside the café."
The memory was starting to move again.
Not violently like before.
This time it crept forward slowly.
Like a door opening just enough to reveal what was hiding behind it.
Samantha closed her eyes.
And the docks around her disappeared.
It was late.
The café lights had already been turned off.
Samantha stood inside near the front counter, wiping the last table before closing.
Outside, the street was mostly empty.
The clock on the wall read 11:48 PM.
Her coworker had already left.
She was alone.
Or at least she thought she was.
She remembered walking toward the window to pull down the blinds.
That's when she saw the truck.
Parked across the street.
The headlights were off.
Two men stood beside the back.
One of them, the man from the docks.
He was talking quietly to someone else.
Someone taller.
Wearing a dark coat.
Samantha leaned closer to the glass.
Curious.
The men opened the back of the truck.
Inside, laid Wooden crates, heavy ones.
The taller man opened one slightly.
Just enough for Samantha to see inside.
Something metallic.
Wrapped in cloth.
But the shape was unmistakable.
Her breath caught.
Guns.
Crates filled with them.
Illegal weapons.
The taller man shut the crate again quickly.
But it was too late.
Samantha had already seen.
She remembered stepping back from the window slowly.
Her heart racing.
She knew she shouldn't be watching.
She knew this was dangerous.
But then, the man from the docks looked up.
Right at the café window.
Right at her.
Their eyes met.
And suddenly she understood something terrifying.
He hadn't just noticed her.
He had been watching the café.
Watching her.
Samantha gasped.
The memory snapped away.
The docks rushed back around her.
Cold wind.
Dark water.
Arman standing in front of her.
"What did you see?" he asked urgently.
Her breathing was uneven.
"Guns."
His expression hardened instantly.
"What?"
"They were unloading crates."
"From a truck."
Arman ran a hand through his hair.
"That's smuggling."
Samantha nodded.
"I saw them."
"And he saw me watching."
The pieces clicked together with brutal clarity.
"That's why he followed you," Arman said quietly.
"That's why he asked about your schedule."
"Yes."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"He needed to make sure I wouldn't talk."
Arman felt anger rise in his chest.
"So he killed you."
Samantha swallowed.
"Yes."
The truth hung between them.
Heavy.
Final.
Arman kicked a loose pebble across the concrete.
"That guy said something important earlier."
Samantha looked at him.
"What?"
"He said the truth doesn't end with him."
She nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"Which means he wasn't the boss."
The wind blew harder now, rattling one of the nearby containers.
Samantha looked back toward the dark rows of metal structures.
"There was another man."
Arman's head lifted.
"The tall one?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember his face?"
She hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"No."
"Not yet."
"But I remember his voice."
Arman stepped closer.
"What did he sound like?"
"Calm."
"Confident."
She frowned slightly.
"Like someone used to giving orders."
Arman exhaled slowly.
"That's not good."
"No."
Silence returned for a moment.
Then Samantha wrapped her arms around herself.
Not from cold.
From the weight of the memory.
Arman noticed immediately.
"You okay?"
She nodded faintly.
"It's just… strange."
"What is?"
"Knowing exactly why you died."
He stepped closer.
"You didn't deserve that."
"I know."
She looked at him.
"But I'm glad you're here."
Arman blinked.
"Why?"
"Because if I had to face all this alone…"
She shook her head.
"I don't think I could."
Something in his chest softened.
"You're not alone."
"I know."
She smiled faintly.
"And you're very brave."
He snorted.
"I'm terrified."
She laughed softly.
The sound warmed the cold dockyard air.
Then she looked down at her hands again.
Something strange happened.
For just a second, her fingers brushed against Arman's sleeve.
And this time, they didn't pass through.
Arman froze.
"Wait."
Samantha looked down too.
"I touched you."
"Yeah."
They both stared at his arm.
The contact lasted barely a second.
But it had been real.
Arman looked up at her slowly.
"You're definitely getting stronger."
Samantha smiled faintly.
"Maybe that's what happens when ghosts get angry."
"Or when they fall in love," he said before thinking.
The words slipped out too easily.
They both went quiet.
Samantha's expression softened.
"Maybe both."
The wind moved through the harbor again.
And somewhere deep in the darkness between the containers—
Someone was watching them.
Quiet.
Patient.
Because the deeper Samantha's memories returned, the closer she was getting to the truth.
And the truth was far more dangerous than either of them realized.