Chapter 2: Confessions in the Dark

That night, Emma tossed and turned in her childhood bed, the ceiling plaster above her spinning with memories. She tried to banish Mark’s face from her mind, but it kept creeping in—his nervous half-smile, the way his fingers had lingered on Claire’s hand.

A floorboard creaked outside her door. She sat up, heart racing. Mark stood in the hallway, bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight. “Can’t sleep either?” he whispered.

Emma hesitated, her pulse thrumming. “Yeah. Too many ghosts in this house.”

He nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He picked at a torn cuticle, his gaze glued to the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

She motioned for him to come in. Mark closed the door gently, then hovered near the edge of her bed. He looked everywhere but at her, fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt, running a hand through his hair. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked. “Emma, I—I need to tell you something.”

Emma’s stomach dropped. “What is it?”

He swallowed hard, knuckles white. “I shouldn’t say this. God, I know I shouldn’t. But ever since you got here, I can’t stop thinking about you. I thought it would go away, but it just gets worse.”

Emma’s breath hitched. The room felt suddenly too small, every second stretching, heavy and electric.

Mark looked up, finally meeting her eyes. Vulnerability flickered across his face, raw and desperate. “I’m so sorry. I just—I had to tell you.”

Emma stared at him, words stuck in her throat. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she didn’t.