Chapter 68

Chapter 68
Georgiana and Michael chatted, exchanging words back and forth.
Between them, there was no consolation, no persuasion, only listening to each other.
Michael glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. I should probably head back."
"Have you eaten?" Georgiana suddenly asked. "Why don't you stay for dinner?"
After a brief hesitation, Michael nodded. "I'd like that."
"This is dinner?" Michael asked with a hint of amusement as Georgiana searched through her nearly empty refrigerator.
"Noodles," she declared, pulling out a package. "I'm afraid it's not very fancy."
"I should get some vegetables," Michael suggested, noticing the small vegetable garden visible through the kitchen window. "You have a garden?"
Georgiana nodded. "The landlord lets tenants use it. There might be some cabbage left."
Michael stepped outside through the back door. The evening air carried a slight chill as he crouched down among the vegetable rows. Behind him, light spilled from the kitchen, casting his shadow long across the garden soil.
He found a decent-sized cabbage and carefully harvested it, brushing off excess soil before heading back toward the house. As he approached, he noticed Georgiana crouched in the doorway, watching him.
The kitchen light created a pathway of illumination across the yard. Georgiana's shadow stretched across it, forming a dark silhouette against the golden rectangle. Michael stood at the edge of the light, half his face visible, half hidden in shadow as he cleaned the cabbage.
Georgiana silently shifted her position, moving sideways until her shadow on the ground leaned against his back. This simple, childlike gesture made the corner of Michael's mouth turn slightly upward.
"Michael," she suddenly asked, her voice barely audible above the rustling of cabbage leaves. "Are you ever afraid?"
His hands paused momentarily. "Afraid of what?"
"Of not getting better," she said.
Michael was quiet for several seconds, continuing to methodically clean the cabbage. "Yes," he finally answered. Then, taking a deep breath: "Terrified, actually."
The two worked together in the kitchen, and the noodles were soon ready.
Steam rose from the bowls as Georgiana carried them to the small table. The noodles were simple—just broth, cabbage, and a few spices she'd found in her cupboard—but the aroma was enticing.
Georgiana stirred her noodles, the heat flushing her cheeks as she suddenly said, "Michael?"
Michael looked up sharply, his eyes meeting hers across the table.
"That day," Georgiana continued, her voice tentative. "Were you going to rescue Jessica?"
Michael's expression remained steady. "No."
The icy shard that had been lodged in her heart slowly melted away, and her lips unconsciously curved upward.
"What are you smiling about?" Michael asked, noticing the change in her expression.
Georgiana twirled noodles around her fork. "I'm happy," she admitted. "It's probably wrong to feel this way, but I'm happy."
Michael's smile mirrored hers, a tacit understanding passing between them. They enjoyed this simple meal, finding it more satisfying than any restaurant fare could have been.
After dinner, Michael gathered his things to leave.
Georgiana walked him to the front gate, peering down the dark alley that led back to the main street.
"Wait," she said suddenly, disappearing back into the house. She returned moments later with a flashlight, her cheeks slightly flushed as she handed it to him. "The alley's dark."
Michael took the flashlight, their fingers briefly touching.
Georgiana hesitated before asking, "If something happens... is it all right if I call you?"
"Of course," Michael replied, his voice soft in the night air.
In today's society, it's strange. Many people have each other's numbers, yet making a phone call seems like an intimate act that crosses boundaries.
They parted at the alley entrance, Michael disappearing into the darkness, the beam of the flashlight growing dimmer until it vanished around a corner.
That night, Georgiana didn't check any news or social media. With the help of a sleeping pill, she went to bed early and slept more soundly than she had in months. She woke feeling refreshed and headed to the CNN offices.
During her absence, the situation had reversed. After the students' open letter defending Thornton circulated yesterday morning, followed by the official statement about Nicholas's suicide that afternoon, two massive waves of online attacks had targeted Georgiana.
But when Joseph publicly came forward, public outrage swung back against Thornton, unfortunately extending to some innocent students who had signed the letter supporting him.
Supporters from both sides continuously battled for dominance in online discourse, while the real victims had no voice at all.
The public's focus had shifted from seeking the truth to merely venting emotions.
As the controversy exploded, the school immediately suspended Thornton pending investigation. Joseph had been withdrawn from school by his parents while awaiting the police investigation. Being a minor, no further case details would be released to the media.
Joseph posted one final message on social media: "Please don't support me. I know that if you're dissatisfied with the outcome, your knives will turn on me next."
Georgiana published her own follow-up piece. She acknowledged her error in not fully verifying information, which had misled public opinion. She urged everyone to be patient, to trust and monitor the proper legal investigation. The truth would eventually come to light.
"Public figures, especially journalists, have a butterfly effect on public opinion," she wrote. "I overlooked this, allowing the situation to develop far beyond my expectations. This was my mistake. But as observers, shouldn't you also improve your critical thinking and analytical abilities, rather than blindly taking sides and venting emotions?"
This article calling on the public not to blindly take sides received a lukewarm response, but shortly after its publication, Joseph called her.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice full of remorse. "I was desperate for help, so I lied to you. Then I was afraid of being isolated by my classmates, so I didn't come forward sooner."
"It's okay," Georgiana replied gently. "You're under tremendous pressure now. I'm actually worried about you."
"My parents are with me. I'll be fine," Joseph assured her. "Don't worry. This time I'll tell the truth—nothing hidden, but nothing exaggerated either."
Reporters flocked to Georgiana, seeking information about Joseph. One particularly angry journalist shouted, "When you were under fire, I publicly supported you! Now that the storm has passed, you turn your back on us?" Georgiana simply closed her door to all of them.
Later that day, she printed a single sheet of paper and walked to Thompson's office. When she placed her resignation letter on his desk, he looked surprised.
"What are you doing?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"I'd like to resign," Georgiana apologetically replied.
Thompson shook his head, attempting to dissuade her. "Why torture yourself? Joseph finally came forward and proved you were right. Many people support you now."
"The outcome was right, but the process was wrong," Georgiana calmly explained. "I shouldn't have published information damaging to a suspect without proper verification."
"You're being too stubborn," Thompson sighed.
Georgiana remained silent for a moment before continuing: "It's not just about this incident. I should have resigned a long time ago." She handed him another document—her medical diagnosis. "In my current condition, continuing as a journalist would be irresponsible."
Thompson stared at the mental health diagnosis, his expression changing to one of shock.