Brent’s POV
The piles of documents in front of us seemed endless. Betty and I have been in this small archive room for hours, rifling through stacks of records—a labyrinth of dead ends and half-truths. Megan’s lies were woven so tightly into the fabric of her past that untangling them felt impossible.
"This is pointless." Betty slammed a folder shut and that made me jump a bit. "She’s too good at covering her tracks."
I rubbed my temples, trying to push back the headache that had been building for the past hour. The fatigue was starting to weigh on both of us. "She’s not perfect," I kept my voice calm even though I felt the same frustration Betty did. "We just haven’t found the right crack yet."
Betty’s eyes snapped to mine, and for a second, I thought she was going to argue. But instead, something shifted in her. “Maybe we should stop with this.” She leaned back in her chair, sighing heavily. It was like she gave up.
"No,” I said firmly. “Betty, we'll manage it. We've gone too far to stop right now.”
She was tired, I could see that. I set the folder I’d been holding down and stood, closing the distance between us.
"Listen," I said, my voice low, "she’s using me to ruin everything I care about. Including you."
Her eyes met mine, widening slightly, and for a moment, she kept silence. I could only hear her sharp, shallow breathing. The space between us felt charged, the air thick with the smell of old paper and dust, with everything we weren’t saying. I was so close I could see the faint freckles on her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly as she took in my words.
For a second, I thought about closing the gap, about saying something I couldn’t take back.
But then Betty looked away, her gaze falling to the table. "We should keep working."
"Yeah," I said softly, the distance between us feeling wider than it had before "Let’s keep working."