Chapter 13 - Echoes in the Static
In July, past ghosts occasionally tried to reach across the digital void, though they found the line permanently disconnected.
An email slipped past her spam filters one evening—a message forwarded through an old mutual college acquaintance who didn't know the full extent of the collapse. It was a brief, rambling note from Hannah.
Hannah’s life in Boston had unraveled completely. Her marketing firm had let her go amid the fallout of her public defense of Lucas; her social circle had ostracized her for her role in the deception; and she was currently living in a cramped suburban apartment, trying to rebuild a career from scratch.
“Iris,” the email read. “I know you probably never want to see or hear from me again. I just... I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I lost my job, my friends, my reputation. I see now what Lucas really was. I was a coward for staying silent. If there’s any way we could talk—"
Iris stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment.
She didn't feel anger. She didn't feel satisfaction or vindication. She simply felt a vast, profound distance—the kind of distance that separates two tectonic plates drifting across an ocean.
She selected the message, clicked Delete, and then permanently emptied her trash folder.
May you like
She didn't block Hannah out of malice; she blocked her because her life no longer had storage space for people who lived in the wreckage of other people's deceptions.
She closed her laptop, walked out onto her balcony, and watched the lights of the Portland harbor twinkle across the dark water. The city was alive, breathing, and real. Every light she saw belonged to a home built on honest ground.
