Keith's room was dim, lit only by the soft bluish glow of his laptop screen and the flickering pause icon on Netflix.
Phoebe lay beside him on the bed, her bare leg draped casually over his, her head resting near his shoulder. His arm was lazily wrapped around her waist, fingers tracing tiny circles on her back like it was second nature.
"I'm so sorry I came late," she murmured, voice muffled against his hoodie. "Was caught up in the whole Merlina drama."
Keith chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Drama ? Like boy drama ?"
Phoebe sat up a little, seriousness clouding her usual playful tone. "No, Keith. It's something serious. I just found out her mom—like, her actual mom—was a teacher here. She was assaulted and murdered. On campus."
Keith's body tensed. His hand froze on her back, then slowly pulled away. "Wait… what did you say?"
"She told me her mom was Mrs. Marjorie Sanchez. An Eco professor or something. Do you know her?"
Keith went dead quiet. Zoned out, like someone just yanked him straight out of reality. His gaze drifted past her, fixed on a spot across the room, completely blank.
Phoebe snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Uh, Earth to Keith? You good?"
He blinked rapidly, coming back to himself. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just… that name hit hard."
"So you do know her?"
Keith hesitated. "I've heard of her, yeah."
"She was Merlina's mom," Phoebe said, voice dropping. "And Merlina's been trying to find out what really happened to her. She and Megan went to talk to someone who might know stuff."
"Who?" Keith asked, tone suddenly sharp.
"Megan's brother," Phoebe replied. "Louis O'Conor."
Keith sat up so fast, the mattress dipped. "Wait—what? That Louis? He's Megan's brother?"
"Yeah, why?" Phoebe looked confused. "You know him too?"
Keith rubbed his face with both hands, like trying to wipe away whatever panic just swept over him. "No, no, I don't. I mean—I do, but like, not in a good way. And you said Merlina is talking to him about this?"
"They said he might have info. I just told you this, Keith. Are you even listening?" Phoebe asked, now clearly worried. "Why are you acting so weird?"
Keith's eyes dropped to the bedsheet. "Phoebe, listen. I don't think you should get involved in this."
"What? Why not?"
"Because nothing any of you do will bring her mom back. And poking around stuff that dangerous—it's not smart. Just let it go, okay?"
Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "No. That's my friend, Keith. And if she's hurting, I want to help. You think I'm just gonna sit and do nothing?"
Keith didn't reply. Instead, he reached for the remote and resumed the movie.
They sat in silence for a while, watching without really watching. After some gossip and lazy kisses, Phoebe finally stood, adjusting her skirt.
"I've gotta go," she said, grabbing her bag. "That assignment isn't gonna write itself."
Keith reached out, pulling her back gently. "Stay. We can do it together. Or just… pretend to."
Phoebe giggled, pecking his lips. "No way Mr. Jacobs, you're too distracting."
She kissed him again—longer this time—before breaking away.
"Bye, love," she whispered, heading for the door.
"Later," Keith said, eyes already on his phone.
The phone rang only once before Craig answered. His voice was tired, but still sharp. "Hey hey."
"Craig. We've got a problem."
"What problem?"
Keith's voice dropped, serious. "Did you know Merlina… Merlina is the daughter of your brother's latest, Mrs Marjorie Sanchez?"
There was a long pause on the other end. Craig didn't answer right away, as the words seeped in, heavy and cold.
Craig's voice cut through the line, low and strained. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"For real, man," he said, his voice more urgent now "Phoebe told me. Merlina's been digging into her mom's past. Like, really digging. She's not just curious—she's on a mission. She wants the truth.
Craig went still.
His fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles pale. The air in his apartment suddenly felt too thick, too quiet—like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
"Wait…" he said slowly, as if the words were breaking apart in his mouth. "Wait, slow down. Merlina's… Marjorie Sanchez's daughter?"
His chest was pounding now, the name falling from his lips like it had claws.
"Yeah," Keith replied. "I couldn't believe it either. But it makes sense, there was something about her!"
Craig's thoughts spun, the weight of the name Marjorie Sanchez crashing over him like a wave. And with it, the sudden, sharp recollection of Merlina—her eyes, her quiet intensity, the way the air had seemed to hold them together that night. He hadn't been able to shake the feeling she was different, that something about her reached right into the places he usually kept locked away.
"Wait until you hear who's helping her with the case, man. Louis f*cking O'Connor." Keith spilled
"What does Louis have to do with this?" Craig's voice was distant now, as if he was struggling to keep up with the storm in his mind.
"Apparently, he's been helping her. He's Megan's brother. Small world, huh?"
Craig stood motionless, his fingers gripping the phone like it could keep him tethered to reality. The room felt suffocating.
Merlina is Marjorie Sanchez's daughter. And that realization hit him like a punch to the gut. She was her—the woman at the center of the storm, the one whose death had sparked this endless chaos in his family. And he had gotten so close to her daughter.
The thought of their moment together—their shared silence, the breath between them that felt too meaningful to ignore—came rushing back. There was something deeper in it, something more real than he'd wanted to admit.
He had wanted to stay in that space with her, to stay close. But now, the weight of her identity—the way her life was wrapped in the tragedy that almost ruined the legacy of his family—made everything feel… wrong.
"Louis is gonna run his mouth," Craig muttered, half to himself, half to Keith. "He won't hesitate to name drop Conor."
Keith didn't respond. There was no need to.
Craig's mind reeled, but his words came out soft, almost like he was trying to reason with the universe. "Why her?" he whispered, his voice laced with a quiet sorrow. "Why did it have to be her?"
The question hung in the space between them, unanswered and impossible to explain. Craig wasn't only shocked by this revelation, but he was… sad.
Sad that she had to be tangled in this mess. Sad that he had crossed a line—no matter how small—toward something he hadn't been prepared for.
"I let myself get close to her," he said quietly, his voice betraying him, cracking in the silence. "Closer than I should've. And I don't know what to do with that."
Keith's voice softened, but it didn't hold the usual edge of urgency. "Close ? It was just one dinner. You didn't know, man."
Craig exhaled slowly, the weight of the unspoken memories pressing down on his chest. Keith didn't know the dinner wasn't what haunted him—it was everything that came after. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier to stomach."
His mind drifted—inevitably, unwillingly—to that night. The charged silence between them said more than either of them dared to. He didn't expect to want her. But there was something about the way she looked at him
He didn't kiss her. He didn't even reach for her.
But God, he wanted to.
Not just for the thrill, or the ache in his chest—but because in that moment, everything else fell away. The rumors. The attention. The weight of his last name.
Craig felt the tension in his chest, as if the world had narrowed into just one thing. Merlina. Her search. His brother.
"I need to stop her," Craig said, his voice low, a quiet determination rising in his chest. "I can't let her go down this path. Not when it's so… messy. Especially if Conor finds out she's onto him."
"He's gonna go crazy." Keith added. "I'm scared for her."
Then, without another word, Craig grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and slung it over his shoulder. The door clicked open, the night air rushing in, sharp and unforgiving.