The dining room carried a quiet unease, the soft hum of conversation drowned beneath the weight of unanswered questions. Samantha sat between Kathleen and Junel, her presence serene yet unnerving, as though her return came with a gravity none could fully understand. Tomoya watched her cautiously, his usual carefree aura subdued. Across from him, Christian stared at his untouched plate, his mind clearly racing. Kathleen tried to keep the atmosphere light, but even her attempts faltered when she glanced at the empty seat meant for Takumi.
  He had excused himself earlier, stating he needed to visit the asylum where he worked with Samantha before her mysterious disappearance. It wasn’t just his absence that unsettled Kathleen; it was the growing realization that Takumi had been deliberately avoiding Samantha since her return. She couldn’t ignore the subtle tension his behavior left behind, as though his avoidance was a silent admission of something he couldn’t yet face.
  Tomoya's voice broke through the heavy silence like a sudden gust of wind, drawing everyone's attention to him. 
  “So, uh...” he began, his tone hesitant but good-natured, “not to sound rude or anything, Junel, but doesn’t your girlfriend worry about you? You’ve been here for like... two days now?” He turned briefly to Kathleen, his expression seeking confirmation.
  Kathleen tilted her head, offering an exasperated shrug. “Maybe? I lost track, honestly,” she admitted, her voice carrying a note of weariness that suggested the tension had affected her more than she let on.
  Junel frowned, his fork pausing mid-air as he considered the question. “She’s... understanding,” he murmured, though the faint tremor in his voice hinted at the thin line he walked between reassurance and doubt. 
  “But it’s not like I planned on staying this long. Things just got complicated.” His gaze flickered to Samantha, whose calm demeanor remained an enigmatic contrast to the unease spreading among them.
  Tomoya leaned back in his chair, a skeptical brow raised. “I mean, complicated is one thing, but disappearing without a word for days? That’s bold, even for you.” Though his tone was light, there was an undertone of genuine curiosity, as if trying to decipher what kept Junel rooted to their unpredictable gathering.
  Kathleen sighed again, this time with a tinge of amusement. “Leave him be, Tomoya. If anything, we could all use a little more understanding right now.” She glanced at Christian, who remained silent but visibly thoughtful, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table.
  Tomoya sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, just make sure to call her, okay? Otherwise, I’m telling her you’re here...” His words were meant to be lighthearted, but the sharp glare Kathleen shot his way made him feel like he’d been scolded without a word.
  “Geez! Relax, I’m just kidding!” Tomoya chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
  Junel, however, broke the tension with a quiet admission. “I did tell her.” His voice was steady but carried an undercurrent of frustration that caught everyone’s attention. “But she didn’t say a thing. Not even a word of concern after I told her I was injured from... from the catastrophe the other night.”
  His words lingered heavily in the air, pulling a ripple of surprise across the room. Samantha, who had been silently observing, tilted her head slightly, a flicker of curiosity breaking her serene expression.
  “That’s... not like her,” she murmured, her voice low but pointed. “I know Kim to be overprotective, especially when it comes to you. If she knew you were hurt, she’d move mountains to find you.”
  Kathleen turned her gaze toward Samantha, a trace of disbelief shadowing her features. It wasn’t like Samantha to express such keen insight into someone else’s relationships. 
  Kathleen herself had spoken to Kim far more often than Samantha had, yet even she hadn’t picked up on that particular side of Kim. The revelation stirred a quiet unease in her, one she couldn’t quite name, but it latched onto her nonetheless.
  Tomoya’s lips tightened into a thin line as the thought settled uncomfortably in his mind. He knew exactly why Kim was behaving so distantly. Her affair with Kaiser had consumed her, leaving no room for Junel. That much was clear to him now.
  The metaphor lingered in his thoughts like a bitter truth: if the shower runs cold, it’s not just about the water. It’s about the unseen presence, the evidence of someone else taking up space where they shouldn’t. And people, he mused grimly, could never truly serve two masters. Perhaps Kim’s detached demeanor was her way of severing ties with Junel—an effort to justify her actions as she pursued her entanglement with Kaiser.
  Tomoya’s gaze shifted to Samantha, her plate largely untouched, her discomfort evident in the way her shoulders hunched slightly. A pang of guilt struck him, unbidden. He had no right to judge Kim when his own past was far from spotless. His chest tightened as he remembered his own betrayals, however subtle they might have been.
  Talking to other girls while knowing Samantha was falling for him—wasn’t that a form of infidelity, too? He’d never crossed the boundaries overtly, but the emotional dissonance still stung, a quiet betrayal he had allowed to fester. 
  Tomoya blinked in surprise as Samantha’s gaze lifted to meet his, her chuckle soft but unmistakable. Though the dining table distanced them physically, that fleeting moment of connection bridged the gap. Her smile, genuine and effortless, warmed him more than he cared to admit. He had spent years convincing himself he was over her, yet seeing her now dismantled every defense he had built.
  But reality was unforgiving, and Tomoya knew better than to let his heart stray further. Samantha had moved on—her life and purpose no longer intertwined with his. Still, the ache in his chest was a stark reminder of what could have been.
  “Sam,” Junel’s voice broke through, drawing both their attention.
  “Yes?” Samantha’s tone was light, though curiosity flickered in her eyes.
  “May I talk to you after dinner? Alone?”
  Tomoya stiffened, his body shifting instinctively as if to protest. His disapproval was evident, but Samantha’s calm nod silenced him. Yet, as dinner concluded, Tomoya’s unease overcame him. Grabbing Junel by the arm, he dragged him into a secluded corridor, away from Samantha’s view.
  “What are you going to talk about?” Tomoya demanded, releasing Junel’s arm with enough force to leave a mark.
  Junel, still pale and visibly fragile, avoided Tomoya’s glare. His voice trembled as he spoke. “I-I just need to ask her some things.”
  “About what?” Tomoya’s irritation sharpened his tone.
  “About everything,” Junel confessed, desperation etched in his face. “Since Samantha disappeared, everything I thought I knew has been falling apart. Nothing makes sense anymore.”
  Though Junel’s eyes remained averted, his slumped shoulders and clenched fists betrayed his anguish.
  Tomoya's thoughts wandered back to Kim and Kaiser's affair, the knowledge weighing heavily on his mind. The question gnawed at him: Should I tell him now? Is this the right time? He sighed deeply, grappling with the burden of deciding.
  "Look, I understand exactly how you feel," Tomoya began, his tone softened. "Samantha’s sudden reappearance is more than we all can handle. There’s so much going on, and undoubtedly, more is to come. None of it makes sense to any of us. So, for now, just let her have the time to catch her breath."
  Junel’s fists clenched tighter, his knuckles whitening as frustration bubbled beneath his fragile exterior.
  "H-Have you told her about Scott?" Junel asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with unease.
  Tomoya shook his head, his sigh heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. "Not yet," he admitted. "She doesn’t remember anything from the day before her disappearance, and her memory, in general, is scattered. Dropping something as crucial as that on her now could trigger an emotional collapse."
  Junel’s shoulders slumped, the tension in his body loosening but not dissipating. The silence between them was deafening, each man lost in his own turmoil. 
  "Was Scott already transferred abroad?" Junel’s question seemed to rekindle something in Tomoya’s mind, pulling at threads of forgotten details.
  Had Scott truly been moved abroad? The thought unsettled him, and he realized it was a fact he hadn’t confirmed.
  "I’ll let you know once I’ve verified things," Tomoya replied confidently, his tone steady. He needed Junel to trust him, to keep him anchored to his plans.
  Tomoya watched Junel closely, his expression contemplative. This was the moment. He could finally voice what had been weighing on him, the truth he felt compelled to share. But before he could utter a word, Junel’s phone rang, and Tomoya noticed the shift in his demeanor—the fleeting relief in his eyes as he answered.
  "Kim?" Junel’s voice softened, and for a moment, Tomoya saw a glimmer of happiness.
  "Yes. I’m okay. You? What about our baby?" Junel asked, his tone tinged with hope.
  As the conversation continued, Tomoya observed Junel’s expression change, the happiness draining from his face. "N-No?" Junel stammered, as though trying to comprehend her response. His lips moved as if to form another question, but he stopped himself, merely nodding instead.
  "Okay. I’ll see you on Tuesday... bye—" Junel hesitated before ending the call, his hand lowering the phone with an almost mechanical slowness. His gaze was distant, fixed on nothing, his mind clearly elsewhere.
  "Please excuse me," he muttered, his voice faint as he turned and began to walk away.
  Tomoya knew he couldn’t let him leave like this. Summoning his resolve, he called out, "Go home tomorrow."
  Junel halted, his confusion evident as he turned back. "What do you mean?"
  Tomoya met his gaze, his voice laced with both urgency and subtle warning. "Go see for yourself. And when you do... don’t turn a blind eye."
  Junel’s confusion deepened, but he said nothing more. He merely nodded, though the unease in his eyes lingered as he disappeared down the hallway.
••••
“Ahh, Takumi, my guy. I believe you’re paying me a visit this time, ah?” Victor’s tone carried a mix of amusement and something far more disquieting beneath the surface.
Takumi’s lips curved into a faint smile, one that never reached his eyes. “Of course. How can I call myself a friend if I don’t, Victor?”
The air between them grew taut with unspoken tension. As they faced each other, the silence expanded, weighted and oppressive. 
The moonlight cast sharp shadows across their faces, highlighting the cold calculation in Takumi’s eyes and the eerie mirth dancing in Victor’s. The crumbling rooftop, its aura of neglect and abandonment, seemed like a stage set for their impending clash.
Victor’s grin faltered briefly, his gaze darting to the darkened corners around them. He quickly recovered, replacing the lapse with a wider smirk.
 “You know, I didn’t think you'd be the type to come here... alone.” His voice dipped, testing the charged atmosphere with a subtle edge. “You’re brave... or foolish. Or maybe both.”
Takumi stood unwavering, his gaze fixed on Victor with unyielding resolve. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a purpose.”
"Purpose," Victor chuckled. "Of course... let's have a talk about that then."