The interrogation room was narrow, windowless. The white light fell from above like a silent judgment. Daniel sat at the metal table, hands clasped, back straight. He tried to look calm. He wasn’t. Marek Volkov stood near the wall, barely leaning against it. Ilya Novak sat to the side, silent, watching. Neither of them was in a hurry. They knew that time, in a closed room, always worked against the one who lied.

  —We already talked before, Daniel —Volkov said quietly—. But this time we’re not going to repeat the same story.

  Daniel lifted his gaze.

  —I already told you everything I know.

  Volkov stepped closer to the table and placed a folder in front of him. He didn’t open it.

  —No —he replied—. You told us what you wanted to say. That’s not the same thing.

  Ilya spoke calmly.

  —We reviewed the messages. The schedules. The routines. You didn’t take care of Laura… you monitored her.

  Daniel clenched his jaw.

  —That’s not true.

  —Five minutes —Ilya continued—. Always five minutes after you texted. Every day. At the same hour. Do you know what that’s called?

  Daniel didn’t answer.

  —Conditioning —Volkov said—. Control disguised as concern.

  Daniel slammed his palm against the table.

  —I loved her!

  The sound echoed through the room. Volkov didn’t even blink.

  —Love doesn’t demand reports —he said—. It doesn’t set schedules. It doesn’t cage people.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Silence fell again.

  —Laura wanted to end the relationship —Volkov continued—. We know that. She marked a date. She told her friends. What happened that night?

  Daniel’s breathing became uneven.

  —Nothing —he murmured—. We talked. We argued. But she went home.

  —Are you sure? —Ilya asked.

  Daniel looked up, his eyes glossy.

  —I… wasn’t the only problem.

  Volkov slightly tilted his head.

  —Explain.

  Daniel hesitated. His fingers trembled.

  —There was someone else —he finally said—. Someone obsessed with her.

  Ilya and Volkov exchanged a brief glance.

  —Who? —Volkov asked.

  —A friend of hers —Daniel replied—. From college. He was always around. Too close. Laura said he was just a friend, but I saw the way he looked at her.

  —Name —Ilya insisted.

  Daniel closed his eyes for a second, as if the decision cost him something.

  —Tomás Reiner.

  Volkov didn’t react. He waited.

  Daniel pulled out his phone with shaky hands.

  —I have a photo —he said—. Laura showed it to me once. She said he made her uncomfortable… that she didn’t know how to push him away without hurting him.

  He placed the phone on the table.

  Volkov took it and looked at the screen.

  The image showed a young man smiling at the camera, standing too close to Laura. His hand brushing her shoulder. His eyes fixed on her.

  A chill ran down Ilya’s spine.

  —It’s him… —he murmured.

  Volkov slowly raised his gaze.

  —The same friend who told us you were controlling and possessive —he said—. The one who spoke to us in private.

  Daniel swallowed.

  —Because he needed you to look at me —he answered—. He always wanted her. He always said no one understood her like he did.

  The silence grew heavy, almost unbearable.

  —Do you think he…? —Ilya began, not finishing the sentence.

  —I think Tomás was in love with the idea of Laura —Volkov replied—. And ideas don’t accept no as an answer.

  Daniel lowered his head.

  —I’m not innocent —he said—. I know that. But I didn’t make her disappear. He… he watched her. He knew her schedules. Her routes. Everything.

  Volkov placed the phone back on the table.

  —That’s enough for now.

  Daniel looked up, desperate.

  —Are you going to find her?

  Volkov held his gaze.

  —Now we know who else to look for.

  They left the room without looking back.

  In the hallway, Ilya broke the silence.

  —So… the one who accused Daniel…

  —Was projecting —Volkov finished—. Nothing exposes a person more than pointing out in someone else what they fear being seen in themselves.

  Ilya took a deep breath.

  —And if Laura never left?

  Volkov walked toward the exit.

  —Obsessions don’t look for goodbyes —he said—. They look for possession.

  The image stayed burned into their minds.

  Because now they knew:

  danger doesn’t always scream.

  Sometimes it smiles… and waits.