Chapter 316

The revelation hung in the air like a dense fog as Andy's confession echoed through my mind. Stella's death, the argument on the balcony, the shove – it all pointed to a night marred by darkness and tragedy. Andy's eyes reflected a mixture of regret and confusion, his emotions laid bare for the first time.

"I don't remember Stella falling," Andy admitted, his voice tinged with desperation. "I left the hotel, and the next thing I knew, I stumbled upon her body in the parking lot."

My frustration bubbled to the surface. "You stumbled upon her body? And you didn't think to call for help? To tell someone what had happened?"

Andy ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair. "I was in shock, Evie. I didn't know what to do. And then someone... someone walked me to my car."

I raised an eyebrow, my anger intensifying. "Someone? Who?"

Andy shook his head, his eyes haunted. "I don't know. I was too delirious to see their face. They just told me to get out of there, to clean myself up."

"Why didn't you come forward all this time?" I pressed, my frustration building with every word.

Tears welled up in Andy's eyes as he broke down. "I didn't know what I'd done, Evie. If I killed Stella, I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't face the guilt."

His words resonated with the weight of guilt and confusion. I couldn't deny the sincerity in his eyes, but doubts still lingered. As I pondered his confession, a nagging thought crept into my mind – what if there was more to the story?

"So you really don't remember what happened in the hotel room?" I asked cautiously, my mind racing.

Andy shook his head, his voice choked with emotion. "No, I don't! I was too drunk, too out of it."

The revelation left me torn. Andy's emotional breakdown seemed genuine, but the possibility of someone else being involved cast a shadow of doubt. If someone had walked him to his car, who was it, and why were they covering for him?

Leaving Andy's office, I felt the weight of the truth pressing down on me. The quest for justice had become a convoluted maze, and the answers remained elusive. I needed time to process the revelations, to make sense of the tangled web of lies and half-truths.

Arriving home, I found the apartment empty, except for a note on the counter from Aria. She mentioned she would be at Jake's place for the weekend and that there were leftovers in the fridge. As I read the note, a strange feeling tugged at the edges of my consciousness. The handwriting looked different, almost unfamiliar.

With a sense of unease, I prepared dinner and listened to the recording of Andy's confession once more. Each word resonated, but something caught my attention – a detail I had overlooked before. Kamran had a gun in his room, according to Andy's recollection.

My mind raced as I recalled Mia mentioning that she sometimes shared a room with Kamran. The pieces of the puzzle started to click into place, forming a disturbing picture. If Mia had access to a gun and was somehow involved in that fateful night, the truth became more elusive than ever.

A tremor of unease passed through me as I thought about the gun. Was it the same as the one my mother owned? The possibility sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't want to entertain the thought of Kamran dragging my mother into the mess, but the nagging doubt lingered.

I only studied her gun briefly, recalling the cold metal as it gleamed in the dim light of Kamran’s room. My memory failed me as I tried to recall the specifics of the weapon. Was it the same model as Timothy’s? I couldn't say for sure.

A knock at the door disrupted my contemplation, and I hurriedly shut off the recording. I cautiously approached the door, uncertainty gnawing at me. Opening it, I found Timothy standing on the other side, his demeanor relaxed.

"Hey, Evie," he greeted with a casual smile. "Mind if I come in?"

I hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let him in. "Hey, babe. What brings you here?"

He sauntered into the apartment, looking around. "Just thought we could hang out, you know? It's been a while since we’ve been able to just relax together."

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I closed the door. "Timothy, it's perfect timing. We have lots to discuss."

I gestured for him to come inside, and he walked into the kitchen. He grinned, pointing to the steaming pot on the stove.

"Aria was out, so dinner was on me tonight," I told him with a smile. "It should be ready. I made a little too much, but I figured you brought an appetite."

“You figured correctly,” he said with a laugh. I led him to the small dining table, set with mismatched plates and utensils. It wasn't extravagant, but it was a humble offering that he appreciated.

"I hope spaghetti is okay," I said, spooning generous helpings onto plates. "It's not gourmet, but it's comfort food."

Timothy managed a small smile. "Comfort sounds good right now."

I placed the steaming plate in front of him and watched as he began twirling the noodles with his fork. The silence lingered, and I debated confessing my whereabouts to him. I joined him at the table, my own plate in hand.

We ate in companionable silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates filling the void that words couldn't reach. As the last bite was savored, I took a deep breath, ready to delve into the difficult conversations that lay ahead.

"How was your day?" I asked, trying to shift the focus away from the shadows that loomed over us.

Timothy sighed, a weariness settling in his eyes. "Rough. Not being able to play with the team has been getting to me. I worked out a little and walked around the city, trying to clear my head."

"I'm sorry, Timothy," I offered sympathetically, understanding the frustration of unfulfilled dreams. "It's a tough situation, but things will get better after the people have come to their senses. You'll get back out there."

He nodded, the gratitude evident in his gaze. "I appreciate that, Evie. It means a lot."

As we finished our meal, a lull in the conversation hung in the air. I couldn't delay the inevitable any longer – the truth about Stella's death and the unsettling suspicions surrounding Andy.

"I've been doing some digging," I began cautiously, choosing my words with care. "And I think I might've found something about Stella's death."

Timothy's eyes narrowed with interest and concern. "What did you find?"

"I've been going over everything in my head," I continued, recounting the pieces of the puzzle that had fallen into place. "Andy was with Stella that night, but he claims he doesn't remember her falling. He says someone guided him to his car, told him to clean up and leave."

Timothy's brow furrowed, but he remained quiet. I went on.

"He was delirious, confused," I explained. "But that's not all. I've been piecing together details, and it seems like there might have been someone else in that hotel room with them."

His eyes widened with surprise. "Evie…”

"I don't know," I admitted, frustration tingeing my voice. "Andy insists it was just him and Stella, but something doesn't add up. And, Timothy, there's something more.”

His jaw clenched, and Timothy sat back in his seat. He let his fork fall put of his hands as he wiped his mouth on the paper towel. “What else is there?”

I bit my lip. “I've connected the dots, and it's possible that Andy might be involved in Stella's death."