CHAPTER SEVEN
Between the Past and Tomorrow
By the time Gila and Thelma reached the university town, the rain had disappeared.
The roads were still wet, shining beneath the afternoon sun, but the heavy darkness of the previous night had lifted.
For the first time since discovering the photograph, Gila allowed herself to breathe.
The university rose ahead of them beyond a line of trees, its buildings spread across the hillside. Students moved between lecture halls carrying books, talking in groups, laughing, arguing about assignments and hurrying toward their next classes.
Life.
Ordinary life.
Gila found it almost strange.
After everything they had uncovered, she had expected the world to look different.
It didn't.
People were still going to class.
Cars still moved along the road.
Someone was selling fruit near the entrance.
A group of students were taking photographs beneath the university sign.
Nothing had changed.
Except them.
Thelma looked at her.
"You've been quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"That's dangerous."
Gila laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh she'd managed in days.
"I almost forgot what that sounded like."
Thelma smiled.
"Maybe that's what we need."
"What?"
"Something normal."
Gila looked toward the university.
"Do you think normal is still possible?"
Thelma didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "Maybe we don't need normal. Maybe we just need something worth fighting for."
Gila looked at her.
Before she could respond, a familiar voice came from behind them.
"Gila."
She turned.
And her expression changed instantly.
The man walking toward them carried a stack of books beneath one arm. His shirt was damp from the heat, his dark hair slightly disordered, and there was a smile on his face that seemed completely out of place with the tension Gila had been carrying.
He stopped in front of her.
"You disappeared."
Gila tried to hide her smile.
"I had things to do."
"So you couldn't tell me?"
"I could have."
"But you didn't."
"No."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"I missed you."
The words were simple.
They shouldn't have affected her.
They did.
Thelma watched them both and quietly stepped away.
Gila noticed.
"You're leaving?"
"I suddenly remembered that I have somewhere else to be."
Gila narrowed her eyes.
"Thelma."
"I'll see you later."
And she walked away before Gila could stop her.
The man beside Gila laughed.
"She likes me."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"I think she does."
"She thinks you're distracting me."
"Am I?"
Gila looked at him.
She wanted to say no.
Instead, she smiled.
"Maybe."
For a moment, the world became smaller.
There was no photograph.
No Rymus.
No hidden records.
No river.
Only the two of them standing beneath the university trees.
Then his expression changed.
"You look worried."
Gila's smile faded.
"I am."
"About what?"
She hesitated.
She wasn't ready to tell him everything.
Not yet.
"We found something."
His eyes became serious.
"What?"
"A photograph."
She pulled it from her bag.
He studied it.
His expression changed.
"You know these people?"
"Some of them."
He looked again.
"Who is that?"
Gila followed his finger.
The photograph.
The river.
The faces.
And the man standing half-hidden in the background.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
He looked at her.
"You're investigating this."
"Yes."
"Then don't do it alone."
Gila swallowed.
"We've already gone too far."
"That isn't what I mean."
He stepped closer.
"I mean you don't have to carry it alone."
She looked into his eyes.
There was no fear there.
Only concern.
And something deeper.
Something she had been trying very hard not to name.
"Why are you helping me?"
He smiled faintly.
"Because I care about you."
The words struck harder than she expected.
Gila looked away.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
He gently touched her hand.
"Just don't disappear again."
She looked down at their hands.
Then back at him.
"I won't."
For a brief moment, she believed it.
She believed she could have this.
A university.
A future.
Someone who cared.
A life beyond the shadows.
Then her phone vibrated.
She pulled it from her pocket.
One message.
No number.
No name.
Only four words.
THE RIVER IS WAITING.
Gila's blood ran cold.
She looked toward the road.
Nothing.
She turned back.
The man beside her had noticed the change in her face.
"What happened?"
Gila locked the phone.
"Nothing."
But she knew that was a lie.
Someone had followed them.
Someone knew where they were.
And someone wanted them to understand that the river was no longer somewhere in their past.
It was waiting for them in their future.