Chapter 6
The protective order hearing was scheduled for Friday.
That gave us three days.
Three days to gather evidence.
Three days to lock accounts.
Three days to prove Jasmine was not a worried best friend but a woman building a false story piece by piece.
I did not sleep much.
Neither did Lena.
We slept in the same bed again, but with space between us.
Not because love was gone.
Because trust had bruises.
Sometimes our hands found each other in the dark.
Sometimes they did not.
Both hurt.
On Wednesday morning, Lena called her workplace and told HR her personal information had been compromised.
By noon, she learned someone had tried to change her direct deposit.
Not successfully.
But close enough.
The request came from an email that looked like Lena’s.
One letter different.
Jasmine had made a fake account.
Lena sat at the kitchen table with her laptop open, staring at the HR message.
“She tried to take my paycheck.”
Her voice was flat.
No tears left.
Noah, who had skipped last period with Denise’s permission, sat beside her.
“She needs to go to jail.”
Denise sat across from them.
She had come over that morning carrying soup, apology muffins, and a face full of guilt.
I did not know apology muffins were a thing.
Apparently, Denise invented them when words were not enough.
She looked at me now.
“Daniel, I owe you an apology.”
I was too tired for polite lies.
“Yes.”
She flinched.
Then nodded.
“I believed things too easily because I was afraid Lena would repeat my mistakes.”
Lena looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Denise’s hands twisted around her mug.
“When I was with your father, I ignored little signs until they became big ones. When Jasmine said Daniel was controlling, it scared me. I saw my past instead of your present.”
Lena’s face softened and broke at once.
“Mom.”
Denise shook her head.
“That explains why I was vulnerable. It does not excuse why I believed someone else about your life without asking you enough questions.”
She looked at me again.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
It was not forgiveness.
But it was a start.
That afternoon, Miles came over with a printer, folders, sticky tabs, and the energy of a man who loved evidence more than gossip.
He laid everything across the dining table.
Noah’s recording.
Video of the frame.
Angela’s report.
The bank notification.
The burner phone.
Screenshots.
HR emails.
Denise’s statement.
Noah’s statement.
Mine.
Lena’s.
Miles tapped one stack.
“This is not just boundary crossing. This is identity theft, harassment, false reporting, possible defamation, and attempted fraud.”
Lena closed her eyes.
“She was my best friend.”
Miles’s voice softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just help me stop her.”
He nodded.
“I can do that.”
That evening, Jasmine’s social media post went live.
It had no names.
It did not need them.
Sometimes you risk everything to help a friend escape, and she chooses the man because fear feels like love. I won’t stop telling the truth, even if they try to silence me.
Comments filled fast.
You’re so brave.
Is this about Lena?
Call the police.
Men like that are dangerous.
My phone started buzzing twenty minutes later.
A coworker.
Then my supervisor.
Then my cousin.
Then a number I did not know.
Lena watched my face as I rejected each call.
Her own phone buzzed too.
Messages from old friends.
Are you safe?
Did Daniel take your phone?
Do you need a ride?
She threw the phone onto the couch like it had burned her.
“I hate her.”
Then she covered her mouth, shocked by her own words.
“I hate her,” she whispered again.
Denise put an arm around her.
Noah stared at the floor.
I wanted to say hating her would pass.
I did not know if it would.
At 9:04 p.m., someone knocked on the door.
Everyone froze.
Miles looked through the peephole.
His face tightened.
“Police.”
My chest went cold.
Again.
I opened the door.
Two officers stood there.
Not the same one from before.
“Daniel Carter?” one asked.
“Yes.”
“We received a call requesting a welfare check on Lena Brooks.”
Lena pushed past me.
“I’m Lena.”
The officer looked relieved but cautious.
“Ma’am, are you here voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Can you speak freely?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Carter take your phone or prevent you from leaving?”
“No.”
“Do you feel safe?”
She looked back at me.
Then at the officers.
“Yes. I feel safe with Daniel.”
The officer nodded.
“Would you mind stepping outside to confirm privately?”
Lena did.
I stood in the doorway while cold air crawled across my feet.
I knew the officers were doing their job.
I knew checks like this could save lives.
But Jasmine had weaponized the language of safety until every knock made me feel accused in my own home.
Lena came back five minutes later, shaking with anger.
“They said the caller claimed you threatened to hurt yourself if I left.”
My stomach turned.
Denise gasped.
Noah cursed.
Miles wrote it down.
After the officers left, Lena stood in the center of the living room.
Her voice was quiet.
“She won’t stop.”
“No,” Miles said. “Which helps us in court.”
Lena looked at him.
“How?”
“Judges like recent evidence. She keeps providing it.”
That was the first time I laughed in three days.
It sounded broken.
But it was laughter.
Later that night, after everyone left, Lena and I sat on the couch.
Not touching.
My mother’s photo had been reframed temporarily in a cheap black frame from the grocery store.
Lena stared at it.
“She was beautiful.”
“She was.”
“I’m sorry I let Jasmine say that about her.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
“Can you tell me about her?”
The question surprised me.
“What?”
“Your mom. Tell me something that isn’t sad.”
I looked at the photo.
Then I smiled a little.
“She cheated at Monopoly.”
Lena blinked.
“What?”
“Shamelessly. Hid money under the board.”
Lena laughed softly.
I laughed too.
The house felt warmer for one second.
Then Lena reached for my hand.
I let her take it.
“We need to make this house ours,” she said.
“After court.”
“No.” She looked at me. “Starting now. Not by erasing them. By adding us.”
May you like
I looked at our joined hands.
For the first time in days, hope did not feel foolish.
