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006

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The fluorescent light buzzed faintly above you, casting a sterile glow over the bathroom's white tiles. You gripped the edges of the sink, fingers tightening until your knuckles burned. Your reflection stared back at you—unblinking, hollow, foreign.

Your breathing was uneven. Shaky. You tried to steady it, but the more you fought for control, the more the weight of your thoughts pressed down on you.

How long had they known? How long had you been walking this path without realizing it was never really yours to begin with?

You had spent years searching, dedicating yourself to something you thought was a mystery only you could solve. It defined you. Shaped you. Drove you forward when nothing else made sense.

And yet... it was all orchestrated.

Holloway knew.

NASA knew.

Even the military had been watching.

Your grip on the sink tightened.

"How have I been so naïve?"

A bitter laugh bubbled up in your throat, but it never left your lips. Instead, you inhaled sharply and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over your hands. You cupped some, splashing it onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of the spiral.

It didn't.

You pressed both palms flat against the counter, hanging your head. Fourteen years. Fourteen wasted years chasing something you were never supposed to hear. Never meant to find.

And yet, you did. And now... now you didn't know what to do.

You lifted your head slowly, staring at your reflection. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the fluorescent light making the dark circles under your eyes more pronounced.

You looked exhausted. Defeated.

——————

Ten minutes.

Ten full minutes of suffocating silence. The kind that settled deep in your chest, curling around your ribs like iron shackles. You didn't move, barely breathed, staring at the distorted reflection of yourself in the water pooled at the bottom of the sink.

Then, slowly, your fingers twitched.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a second phone—one you barely used. It was sleek, unmarked, and for the longest time, it had only served as a precaution. A private line. Just in case.

Now, it was your only option.

You unlocked the screen, the dim light casting a faint glow over your face as you scrolled through the list of contacts. There weren't many. Just a handful of names. But your eyes landed on the one that mattered.

Xeno Houston Wingfield.

You hesitated.

It wasn't fear that made your thumb hover over the call button. It was doubt. Not in him, but in yourself. In the choice you were about to make.

But in the end, the decision had already been made the moment you reached for this phone.

With a quiet exhale, you pressed the button and brought the phone to your ear. The dial tone rang once, twice—