Chapter 6 THE FIRST CRANE
\[ETHAN'S POV\]
She spotted the crane.
I’m sitting in my study. The door’s open a bit. From the bedroom, her breath comes through - quick. Light. Not steady at all.
She stayed still. Yet her mind went back - chest heavy, fingers curled beneath her chin.
Thinking is worse.
The flat’s calm apart from the fridge buzzing or the wall clock ticking.
She skipped dinner. Then ignored the shower. Instead, she crashed into bed - fully dressed.
I’ll say this - ten minutes max. After that, out the door I go, heading straight for the room.
She’s standing toward the wall - eyes shut. Yet sleep isn’t coming. Not even close.
I can see it in how her shoulders tighten. Like her breath’s off from what you’d hear if she were really asleep.
Standing in the doorway, I watch her.
She’s great at faking things. That’s nothing new.
But I'm better.
Later in the room, I turn on my computer.
Pull up the file I’ve been tinkering with - Chapter Nineteen.
The Detective Makes Her Move
I checked my words from yesterday.
She’s near right now - closer than she realizes. Yet being near doesn’t mean she’s prepared.
She’ll spot the trends. Those dates. Where things happened. Then she might link stuff that’s not supposed to go together. Once that happens, she gets to decide.
Talk to a person. Otherwise, carry on struggling by yourself.
She’ll decide by herself - since fear of mistakes hits harder than confidence in getting it right.
I saved the file, then shut down the computer.
My phone buzzes.
A message came through from my agent.
Good crowd tonight. Patricia mentioned you rocked it. How about scheduling another session next month?
I reply: That works.
After that, I tap on my photo gallery.
Check out the post from tonight - someone mentioned me. A follower showing off the paper crane I made during the event. Huge grin on their face. Says: This was the coolest signing ever! Called them OrigamiMaster
Look closer at the crane she’s holding.
The creases look just right.
Check the comments below. So far, there are thirty-seven. Some say I’ve got real skill. My stories feel true to life. Others mention they’re eager for what comes next.
A single remark catches attention.
Your fiancée showed up tonight, right? Spotted her hanging in the back. Kinda seemed focused, huh - lol
Just a random name. No picture here.
Could be anyone.
Maybe it’s nobody.
I shut the app then put my phone aside.
A piece of paper. Plain white. Shaped like a square.
Start folding.
This one’s unique - no crane here.
A fox.
Slanted ears. Yet a narrow snout. Though the tail’s thick.
Takes extra time. Also needs more layers. Plus requires careful accuracy.
The page rustles beneath my finger. But a fold snags the edge of my nail.
Once finished, I lift it toward the glow.
Perfect.
I placed it beside the rest - three cranes, a fox.
The fox seems focused.
Tomorrow I’ll drop it off where she’d never think to look.
Perhaps her vehicle. Or maybe her workplace table.
Perhaps I’ll tuck it in her coat when she’s out cold.
This idea brings a grin. Yet it feels odd somehow.
Notebook’s flipped open. A blank sheet sits there.
Start writing.
Victim Seven
Not unfamiliar now. A person familiar to her. One she relies on.
It’s gotta feel real. Gotta sting a bit.
She won't get it unless you do it like that.
Stop for a sec. Knock the pen on the paper now.
Who?
Nah, not Marcus. Way too noticeable. Besides, I’ve got use for him. He holds Aria together. Stops her from crashing hard. Alive? Much better that way.
Not the boss. Way too dangerous. Draws way too many eyes.
Someone smaller. Quieter.
A person whose passing hits like a note she alone was supposed to get.
Write a name.
Cross it out.
Write another.
Stop.
I’ll figure it out once they show up.
This is just how things go. Not looking much beyond today. The plot shows me where it wants to head.
At this moment, it’s waiting for Aria to crack.
Somewhat, but nope. Not just now.
Just enough to leave her needing more.
Desperate folks mess up - when stress hits, choices go wrong.
Mistakes? They often lead to solid conclusions.
Notebook closed. Almost midnight.
Head into the kitchen. Then grab a glass and fill it up. Sip gradually instead of rushing.
The crane remains on the countertop - exactly as I'd placed it before.
She left it alone. Then stayed still. After that, I tossed it out.
She's keeping it.
So maybe she’s just waiting to see if things turn out differently.
I grab the crane, spread it open, and press out the wrinkles. Flip it shut once more. Quick this round.
Once finished, I put it away again.
Right there, just like before.
She’ll see it. Because she never misses a thing.
Head back to the room where you sleep.
Aria’s stuck in that spot again. Yet faking slumber.
Slide under the covers. Stay on my side. Hands to myself.
She doesn't move.
The fridge buzzes softly in the room. Yet she breathes slow - steady on purpose. Still quiet.
“Night, Aria,” I say softly.
Nothing.
Close my eyes.
Yet I stay awake.
Thinking about tomorrow.
About the fox, I’ll pass it on to her.
About how her face changes once she spots it.
About how much time I’ve got till she actually does something.
Not long now.
Perhaps seven days. Or fewer.
Once she shows up, I’ll stand prepared.
I was set from day one.
I made the first paper bird right after she handed me that pen. The cut on my thumb? She didn't even see it.