Page 126 of Mine To Hunt

I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to answer, but because I don’t know how much to reveal yet.

"Because someone is still out there." I say carefully. "And I think what happened back then might not be as finished as everyone believes."

"Would you like some tea?" She asks abruptly, standing up with a small sigh. "I have snacks too if you are hungry from the drive."

The shift in subject feels intentional. A retreat, but not a rejection.

I allow it. "Tea would be great, thank you. No snacks for me, but I appreciate it."

She nods once, already moving toward the kitchen. "Black or green?"

"Black is fine."

She brings over two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits anyway, setting them on the table between us. The ceramic makes a soft clink against the glass surface. The small domestic sound feels almost surreal.

"I thought you might change your mind about the biscuits." She says quietly. "Long drives drain more than people realize."

"Thank you." I reply.

I pick up my mug, but my hands tremble slightly as I hold it, the warmth seeping through the ceramic but doing little to steady the nerves that make my fingers shake. I try to hide it by taking a careful sip. The tea is strong, almost sharp, but grounding.

The normalcy of this gesture feels strange and out of place compared to the dark topic we are here to discuss, like we are pretending everything is fine when both our lives have been shattered by similar horrors.

Mily notices the tremor in my hands. Her gaze flickers to it, then back to my face. She doesn’t comment on it, but something in her expression softens.

She sits back down and takes a measured sip of her tea before asking directly, her voice cutting through the cautious politeness.

"So, why are you really here, Iris? What do you hope to get from talking to me about something I’d rather forget?"

There is no hostility in her tone now. Only exhaustion. A boundary being tested.

I hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of the question press on me because admitting my own vulnerability feels exposing. For weeks I have been pretending I can handle this alone.

"I came because what happened to you is happening to me now." I say. "Not all the details at once, but enough to scare me deeply. The anonymous texts that know too much, the photosproving he is watching, the rumors at work that isolate me from everyone. I thought maybe you could help me understand how to deal with it or spot something I’m missing."

Mily goes very still.

Her mug pauses halfway to her lips. A faint shift passes across her face. Recognition first, then something darker. Not surprise. Memory.

"Similar to what I went through?" She repeats slowly. "That is terrifying."

Her eyes narrow slightly, not at me, but at the implication.

"Tell me more about what has been happening to you." She says, placing her mug down with deliberate care. "I need to hear the pattern."

I nod and draw in a slow breath.

"It began with texts commenting on my clothes or where I was." I explain. "Like he was always nearby. At first, I convinced myself it was someone I knew playing a twisted joke."

Mily’s jaw tightens. "They always start small. Just enough to make you doubt yourself."

"Yes." I whisper. "Exactly. Then a video of me in a private moment was spread at my university. It ruined my reputation. I was off from uni before I even had a chance to defend myself."

She closes her eyes briefly. "And then?" She asks.

"Then rumors at my job to make everyone avoid me." I continue. "It feels calculated. Like he’s systematically isolating me from support."

Mily leans back slightly, her posture no longer guarded in the same way as before. It’s no longer suspicion in her eyes. It’s recognition.