He didn't know if he should go to school today.
Staring blankly at the ceiling from the living room sofa, Jake felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. He no longer felt worthy of teaching—of mentoring the students at the school where he worked.
"Brother," a voice called softly.
He immediately recognized it, but he didn't answer. His fists clenched. Ruth had nearly been harmed on that camping trip. Worse, he had seen him—his cousin—there.
Jake had a strong suspicion that his cousin was involved in the incident. Mikaela believed the same. The problem was, they had no concrete proof. Mikaela could hardly remember the details of that night; she had been the first among the siblings to escape.
Ruth—Chesca—knew more than she let on. Jake was sure of it. And now, Chesca's father's people were back, trying to scare her into silence.
He was thankful the memory-erasing drug had worked, especially considering the trauma she had endured.
"Brother, I heard a student was killed yesterday," Mikaela added.
Jake let out a sigh and stood, eyes falling on the newspaper. He didn't respond.
He had saved that student during the camping trip—but only once. He couldn't save her the second time.
What a foolish teacher I am, he thought bitterly.
He knew the entire school was mourning. The students, the faculty—everyone was shaken by the death.
He glanced at Mikaela. She, too, had been hiding from their cousin. She was doing something behind the scenes, but Jake couldn't figure out what.
"Yeah," he replied simply.
"Are you still going to school today?" Mikaela asked hesitantly.
"I will," he answered shortly.
Jake still had a responsibility to go. As Mikaela's guardian, he wouldn't allow her to go out on her own—not when the memory of the incident was still fresh. For now, she was continuing her studies through homeschooling, for her safety—and for her cousin's sake, too.
"Eat something before you leave. If you're struggling, you can always talk to me," Mikaela reminded him gently.
Jake gave her a nod. He checked the time on his wristwatch. He was already too late for his first class. Without delay, he headed to the garage and climbed into his car.
He needed to find a way to secure justice—for the deaths of his two cousins and for the unresolved death of his uncle—Ruth's real father—who had become his own father's second wife.
The Fuego family had always been powerful. But Jake had never trusted them. Those in high positions, those with influence—they all had something to hide. And they hid it in darkness.
Even though the twins and Felisa were not his full cousins, he still felt sorry for them. He, too, had been separated from his mother—the first wife—at a young age. He couldn't bring himself to hate them. He knew they were victims too.
His thoughts swirled as he drove, fists tightening on the wheel. Deep down, he was certain his cousin was the mastermind behind everything. But the man was too cautious, always covering his tracks.
Easy, Jake. Don't rush it. Trust the process. That was the only thought that kept him sane when the frustration threatened to consume him.
Now, regret clawed at him—regret that he hadn't protected Jasmin. If only he had stepped in earlier, perhaps she would still be alive.
He had known Jasmin was hiding something. But he didn't push her. He didn't want to burden her more than she already was.
She hadn't asked for help. And so, he gave her space—the freedom to forget. That's where he became complacent.
You need to calm down. Don't let the anger eat you alive, Jake. He tried to pacify the guilt rising in his chest.
If only I had talked to her more... If only I had insisted... I might have saved her.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a woman stepped into the road out of nowhere. Jake slammed on the brakes.
He quickly jumped out of the car and rushed to her.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
The woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, met his gaze with quiet intensity. Then she slowly nodded.
"Thank you for your concern, son. You take care too... Many souls are following you." Her voice was calm but unsettling. She walked away with unsteady steps.
Jake stood frozen, watching her leave, her words lingering in the air.
Souls? He repeated it in his mind as he returned to the car.
Souls from the past? Maybe I can believe that. But if she meant ghosts... I don't understand what she was trying to say.
The school gates came into view. Jake pulled into the faculty parking garage and climbed out.
The campus was silent.
"Good morning, sir," a few students greeted him as they passed.
He nodded in return and continued toward the faculty room. The room was nearly empty; most teachers were already in class. Checking the time, he realized he still had a chance to catch the second period.
Grade 10, Section B, he reminded himself. His chest tightened.
He didn't want to go. That was Jasmin's class.
A student lost.
He sighed deeply and sat at his desk, conflicted about whether he should proceed with the class.
In the end, he made a decision—not yet. Instead, he made his way to their classroom—Jasmin's classroom.
When he entered, a heavy silence hung in the air. Some of Jasmin's friends were clearly still grieving, their faces swollen from crying—especially Ericka, who sat quietly in a corner.
Jake said nothing. He walked toward the teacher's table, observing the mourning students. On Jasmin's desk was a framed photo, a candle, and a bouquet of flowers.
"We'll bring these to her wake later, sir," one of the students said quietly.
He simply nodded, his eyes fixed on Jasmin's picture—her smile so full of life.
And once again, his conscience tore at him. He clenched his fist, frustrated at himself.