Page 105 of Stay Scared

He meets my eyes without retreating into the screen. “I wanted that morning. Then I wanted the next one. I wanted to know when you arrived, whether you ate, which chair you chose when someone took yours, who made you laugh, and who made you check the door.”

“You stopped investigating him.”

“I stopped needing him to be there.”

The ugliness of the admission makes it easier to believe.

Owen opens another folder.

More mornings. More windows. My car beneath parking-garage lights. My apartment from across the alley. Halden Coffee before sunrise.

“You built your routine around mine.”

“I could predict where you would be.”

“That explains how you found me. It doesn’t explain why you kept doing it.”

“It does.”

He keeps looking at me. “When I didn’t know where you were, I noticed the absence.”

The words are quiet, not gentle.

I look back at the archive. “How much is here?”

“Thousands of files.”

“How many matter to Rook?”

“Several hundred.”

“And the rest?”

“The rest were for me.”

His fingers curl beside the keyboard. “They were still of you.”

He offers no excuse.

“Delete them.”

Owen stays still.

“Everything that has nothing to do with Rook goes. Keep what proves where he went, what he accessed, and when he was near me.”

He looks at the screen. “That will remove most of the archive.”

“Then most of it goes.”

“There are files I remember better than the days they came from.”

“Remembering them doesn’t make them yours.”

His mouth hardens. “Correct.”

“Then delete them.”

Owen turns back to the console. His hands move across the keys, isolating Rook’s posture, routes, unauthorized access markers, repeated vehicle signatures, and proximity to known breaches.