We all sat around the table—four of us: me, Mom, Sadie, and James. Sadie leaned forward, eyes sharp with that detective sparkle she got whenever drama was in the air. “Alright, darling,” she said, tapping the table with her perfectly transparent fingernail. “Write down the names of every single person who might’ve known about your business. Anyone you told, anyone who could’ve overheard, anyone who even looked nosy enough.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “That’s… not gonna be a long list.”
“Good,” James muttered. “Fewer suspects, fewer headaches.”
But once I picked up the pen, my brain turned into static. Who had I told? In the last few months, I’d barely spoken to anyone outside the small bubble of my work. My entire world had been sketchbooks, fabric samples, and late nights fueled by too much caffeine and too little sleep.
Still, I started writing. One name. Then another. Five names total stared back at me from the page.
“Okay,” I said, pushing the paper toward the others. “Meet the suspects.”
Sadie squinted dramatically. “Five? How disappointingly short. I was ready for a scandalous web of betrayal.”
Mom gave her a look. “Not every mystery involves ten lovers and a missing tiara, Sadie.”
“Boring,” Sadie muttered, crossing her ghostly arms.
I took a breath and began explaining. “First, Sara—my best friend since college. She’s known for a while that I’ve been trying to start my own brand. She was actually the first person I told when I finally quit my job.”
Sadie nodded thoughtfully, scribbling imaginary notes in the air with her finger. “Alright, go on.”
“Then there’s Elizabeth,” I continued, “my old coworker. She overheard me on a call once, talking about buying some equipment. I told her a little—nothing major, just that I was starting something new.”
James tilted his head. “So, she knew what you were buying?”
“Yeah. Roughly.”
He hummed like an old jazz record. “Suspicious.”
I ignored him and moved on. “The third one’s my ex-boyfriend.”
That earned three simultaneous raised eyebrows.
“Before you say anything,” I said quickly, “he called a few weeks ago—wanted another chance. I told him I was too busy building my business to deal with his nonsense. Maybe I bruised his ego a little.”
Sadie smirked. “Oh, men and their egos… always more fragile than a champagne glass at a ghost party.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Then there were two more—people I’d contacted about potential jobs. A pattern maker and a marketing assistant. Both seemed nice. Professional. We only exchanged a couple of emails.”
Sadie tapped the paper thoughtfully. “So, five possible suspects. Friends, colleagues, ex-lovers, and strangers. Classic lineup.”
James leaned back, hands behind his head. “I’m betting on the ex. Always the ex.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “You always bet on the ex, James. Last week you accused your own ex of haunting my tea set.”
“She did move it!” he protested.
Sadie waved him off and turned to me again. “Alright, darling. Now we start digging. One by one. And if someone’s guilty…” Her grin turned mischievous. “Let’s just say revenge is my favorite kind of closure.”
Mom sighed. “Sadie, we’re solving a mystery, not haunting people.”
Sadie winked. “Who says we can’t do both?”
I stared at the list again—five simple names, each one carrying a different kind of history, a different possibility. Somewhere among them was the key to everything I’d lost. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something much bigger.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The air in the room felt thick, like the silence itself had weight.
Sadie was pacing—or floating, technically—back and forth through the wall, muttering half to herself, half to the furniture. “You see, darling, I’ve always said heartbreak makes people reckless. Some steal hearts; some steal sewing machines.”
James chuckled from the corner. “So what you’re saying is… it’s the ex.”
“I’m not saying it’s the ex,” Sadie replied, “I’m just saying it’s always the ex.”
Mom gave a pointed sigh. “You two are unbelievable.”
The night air hit me like a slap.
Cold. Sharp. Real.
The kind of cold that makes you question everything—including why the hell you just walked into your ex’s apartment without a plan.
The streetlights flickered over the wet pavement as I walked, my reflection rippling in puddles. Sadie floated backward in front of me, talking a mile a minute.
“Well, that was anticlimactic. No tears, no screaming, not even a flying plate. Honestly, darling, you disappoint me.”
“I wasn’t there to create drama,” I muttered.
James, gliding lazily above the street, chuckled. “You did fine. Still, I was hoping he’d confess something dramatic. Like, ‘Yes! I stole your sewing machine because it reminded me of our love!’”
“Shut up, James.”
Mom appeared beside me, her glow faint and soft. “He didn’t do it, Anna. You could feel it.”
I kicked a stray pebble into the gutter. “I don’t know what I feel. Every time I think I’m close to an answer, it just… slips away.”
Sadie sighed, floating up until she was just a shimmer against the dark sky. “Then maybe it’s time the universe sends a little nudge.”
When I got home, the apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Even my cat didn’t come running—probably offended that I’d been gone all day without offering treats.
I threw my coat on the couch and collapsed beside it. The silence stretched. My mind replayed every second of that conversation with Kyle—his voice, the twitch in his jaw, the way he looked like he was carrying something heavy he couldn’t say out loud.
Sadie appeared, cross-legged in mid-air. “So, darling, now what? You’ve crossed the ex off the list, I suppose.”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” she echoed. “Either he’s guilty or he’s not. There’s no maybe in mystery-solving.”
Mom smiled faintly. “There’s always maybe in life.”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Ugh, philosophers.”
I ignored them both and reached for my laptop. Maybe distraction was the cure. Maybe work could numb the ache in my chest.
But deep down, I wasn’t so sure she was wrong.
Because the truth was—Kyle did know how to hurt me, just enough to make it sting.
I stared at the folded list in front of me, my mind replaying that phone call. His tone. That awkward pause before he said I didn’t even know you had a studio.
He’d lied to me before—about smaller things, stupider things.
Would it really be that hard for him to lie again?
“Maybe he wanted revenge,” I said out loud, before realizing I’d spoken.
Mom’s head snapped toward me. “Revenge?”
“He hated that I broke up with him. He said I’d regret it someday.” I swallowed, remembering that last conversation. The angry way his voice cracked when I hung up. “What if this is his version of someday?”
Sadie stopped mid-float, eyes lighting up like she’d just found the missing puzzle piece. “Aha! Scorned lover, jealous of your success, sneaks in and sabotages your dreams. Classic noir plot! Delicious!”
James nodded approvingly. “I like it. Bit cliché, but satisfying.”
Mom frowned. “Before you start staging a ghostly revenge plot, maybe we should check facts.”
“Fine,” I said, standing up and grabbing my coat. “Let’s check facts.”
I didn’t know what I was doing until I was already outside.
The air was cold, heavy with the scent of rain, the kind that made streetlights blur into little halos.
Kyle’s apartment was only a few blocks away—close enough to hate myself for knowing that.
Sadie floated beside me, grinning like a cat in a crime movie. “Ooh, this is exciting! A confrontation scene! I’ll take notes.”
“I’m not confronting him,” I hissed. “I’m just… dropping by.”
James, drifting above us, smirked. “Because that always goes well.”
Mom’s voice was soft but steady beside me. “Just… keep calm, Anna. Don’t go looking for answers you’re not ready to hear.”
“Too late for that,” I muttered.
By the time I reached his building, the sky had turned violet with dusk. The stairwell smelled like cheap detergent and regret.
I climbed to the third floor, my heart drumming like I was sneaking into my own past.
When he opened the door, he looked exactly the same—unshaven, barefoot, holding a beer like it was his emotional support animal.
“Anna?” His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You really are stalking me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, pushing past him into the apartment.
Sadie slipped through the wall after me, humming a dramatic soundtrack under her breath.
The place was exactly as I remembered—messy, warm, a battlefield of half-finished art projects and dirty dishes. But there was something new: a pile of boxes in the corner.
Plain brown boxes. Unmarked.
My pulse quickened.
“What’s in those?” I asked.
Kyle blinked. “What? Oh, those? Just stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Why are you here?” he shot back. “You break up with me, ignore me for months, and now you’re in my living room interrogating my cardboard boxes?”
“Because someone robbed my studio.”
That got his attention. “Wait—what?”
“They took everything, Kyle. My machines, my fabrics, all of it.”
He frowned, confused—or pretending to be. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Maybe nothing,” I said, voice low. “Maybe everything. I just want to know if you know anything about it.”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. His jaw tightened, and for the briefest second, I saw something flicker in his eyes—guilt, or maybe just hurt.
Then he exhaled sharply. “You really think I’d steal from you?”
“I think you’d do anything to make me pay,” I snapped.
The words hung there between us, sharp as glass.
He stepped closer, and for the first time in years, I could smell the same cologne—the one that always lingered on my clothes long after he left. “You think I’m that petty?”
“I know you are,” I whispered.
Sadie hovered behind him, arms crossed, nodding like an overinvested audience member. “He’s totally guilty.”
But Mom’s voice—soft, steady—brushed against my ear. “He’s angry, not deceitful, Anna. Look at his eyes.”
I did. And suddenly I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Kyle took a deep breath, lowering his voice. “You can hate me all you want, Anna. You earned that. But I didn’t touch your stuff. I swear.”
Something in the way he said it made my chest tighten.
It wasn’t his usual defensive tone; it was quieter. Defeated.
I nodded once, swallowing hard. “If you’re lying, I’ll know.”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping aside to open the door. “That’s what I liked about you. You always find out.”
I walked past him without another word. Out in the hallway, Sadie caught up, whispering, “Okay, fine, maybe he didn’t do it. But his taste in furniture? Criminal.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“Correct,” she said proudly.
Mom appeared beside me, her hand ghosting over my shoulder. “You did good, sweetheart. But I don’t think the answers are behind you anymore.”
And for the first time since the robbery, I felt it—that faint tug in my chest, the feeling that the real trail was just beginning.
Somewhere else, someone was watching. Someone who already knew what I’d lost—and maybe, what I was about to find.
