Maya’s fingers pressed the print button, the faint whir of her old inkjet printer filling the small apartment kitchen. The official attendance slip from her high school emerged, confirming her presence in Room 204.
She had been there, from 1:00 PM to 4:00 PM, on the exact date of the missing $14,000 transaction.
Her AP Calculus exam had required her phone to be placed in a locker outside the room. All electronic devices were strictly prohibited.
Julian walked into the kitchen, the scent of fresh coffee already brewing. He poured himself a cup, his back to her.
“Morning,” he said, his voice even.
Maya slid the two sheets of paper across the breakfast bar. The bank statement lay beside the attendance slip.
She watched his shoulders tighten. He turned slowly, his eyes finding the documents.
His calm expression fractured, just for a moment. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw before his features smoothed over again.
He picked up her phone from the counter, almost reflexively.
“This is impossible,” he said, his brow furrowing with what appeared to be concern. “Someone must have accessed your accounts remotely.”
He scrolled through her phone screen quickly.
“A phishing scam, probably,” he continued, his thumb already hovering over the settings icon. “They send out those fake links, and one click is all it takes.”
He looked up at her, his eyes clear and earnest.
“Don’t worry,” Julian said, his voice soft. “I’ll clean it all up. I know a few tricks for malware.”
He began to navigate through her phone, not to the generic settings menu, but directly to the banking application’s specific notification options. His movements were precise, too practiced.
“Maybe your Wi-Fi router has a vulnerability,” he murmured, his attention on the screen. “I can secure that too.”
Maya took a slow breath, the aroma of coffee suddenly sharp in her nose. Her college future, a detailed timeline of hopeful steps, felt like it was dissolving into thin air.
The papers on the counter felt heavy.
She watched him, her hand gripping the edge of the countertop.
“Julian,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Stop.”
He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “What is it, May? Just trying to fix this for you.”
“My phone,” she said. “Give it to me.”
He hesitated, then slowly extended the device. His fingers lingered on the case for a second too long before releasing it.
“I’ll handle it,” Maya said.
He simply nodded, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup, the silence stretching between them like a thin, brittle wire.
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