I find a note in the drawer of my desk: He knows. Run.
Miss Wilson, could you check the catalogue cards in the third drawer? It looks like the students have mixed everything up again, says the library director, Angela Peters, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. And please dont stay late tonight. Youve been working too many hours lately.
Right, Ms. Peters, Ill do it, Nina nods, barely looking up from her screen. I just need to finish the electronic inventory of the new arrivals.
Angela shakes her head and leaves the cataloguing department, her heels clicking on the old parquet. The district library occupies the building that used to be a Victorian grammar school, with high ceilings, plaster cornices and creaky floorboards that announce a visitors approach long before they appear.
Nina has indeed been staying late for the past three weeks, but not because shes a workaholic, as Angela assumes. At home nobody is waiting for her since Stephen walked out, taking his belongings and the warmth that once filled their modest flat. Now the only sound is the ticking of an ancient clock left to her by her grandmother.
In the library, however, work never stops. Nina loves the scent of books, the rustle of pages, even the dust that settles on the top shelves despite Aunt Claras best efforts. Here she feels useful and in her element.
Nina, dont forget we have a writer coming tomorrow, peeks Olivia, the young librarian from the circulation desk. We need to ready the small hall and print the flyers.
I remember, Olivia, Nina smiles. The flyers are already printed; theyre in the top drawer of my desk. Grab them yourself, I still have to sort the catalogue.
Olivia nods and walks over to the massive oak desk where Nina works. She pulls out the top drawer and takes the folder with the flyers.
Whats this? she asks, pulling out a folded piece of paper along with the folder.
What? Nina turns toward her.
It looks like a note. Maybe it fell out of the folder.
Olivia hands Nina the folded sheet. Nina unfolds it and reads the three words written in a hurried hand: He knows. Run.
Her heart skips a beat. Her first thought is that its a joke, but deep down she knows it isnt. She folds the paper carefully and slips it into the pocket of her cardigan.
Just a prank, she says, trying to keep her voice casual. Probably a student dropped it. Theyre always passing notes around.
Olivia shrugs.
Ill go hang the flyers.
When the door closes behind Olivia, Nina pulls the note out again. He knows. Run. Who knows what? Who wrote it?
The handwriting looks familiar, but Nina cant place it. It isnt any colleagues style. Could it be Stephen? Why would he write something like that? Their breakup was amicable; he simply said he no longer felt the same and that they should remain friendsplain, predictable, like a cheap romance novel.
Nina tries to concentrate, but the note keeps looping in her mind. By the end of the day she finally finishes the catalogue, hands the keys to the security guard and steps out into a damp October evening. A light drizzle falls, and the street lamps blur into yellow patches through the fog.
The walk home is fifteen minutes. She usually enjoys itpast the old park, through a cosy courtyard with swings where children play by day. Tonight every shadow feels threatening, every sound makes her flinch. He knows. Run. Run from whom?
She steps into the lift, sighs with relief as the hallway lights flicker softly. She rises to the third floor, opens the door to her flat. Everything is as she left it: silence, the smell of cinnamon from the sachet she hangs by the entrance, a small comfort against Stephens absence.
She removes her coat, hangs it on the peg, and heads to the kitchen. She puts the kettle on and pulls yesterdays salad from the fridge. She isnt hungry, but she needs something to occupy her mind.
The phone rings, and she startles. The display shows Mum.
Hi, Mum, Nina answers, keeping her voice steady.
Nina love, how are you? her mothers voice trembles. Ive felt uneasy all day. Is everything okay with you?
Yes, everythings fine, Nina lies. Her mother already worries enough about the breakup; an anonymous note would only add to it. Just tired from work.
Maybe you could come up for the weekend? Ill bake a pie, you could relax
Maybe, Mum. Lets talk on Friday, okay?
After the call Nina feels even lonelier. The tea grows cold; she doesnt want to eat or watch TV. She pulls the note out again, staring at the three words.
A knock at the door stops her. Its ten oclock. Who could be here so late? She tiptoes to the peephole and sees Michael Stevens, the elderly neighbour from upstairs.
Whos there? she asks, just in case.
Its me, Michael. Open up, love.
She opens the door but doesnt remove the chain.
Sorry for the late visit, he says sheepishly. My pipe is leaking; does any water get into your flat?
No, its dry, Nina replies, relieved. Thanks for checking.
Thank heavens. Ive called a plumber; theyll come tomorrow.
When Michael leaves, Nina feels foolish. Shes panicking over a note that a student probably slipped into the folder as a prank. Her imagination has run wild after all the detective novels shes been devouring lately.
She tries to calm herself and lies down, but sleep evades her. She tosses, listening to every creak. Outside the rain patters, distant cars hum, ordinary city sounds that now seem ominous.
Morning finds her exhausted. After a quick breakfast and a strong coffee, she heads to work. The day ahead is busy: the writers visit, the hall preparation, and finishing the new acquisitions.
The library buzzes. Angela Peters barks orders, Olivia arranges chairs in the small hall, and Aunt Clara scowls while mopping the floors.
Nina, a man asked for you earlier, says Aunt Clara as Nina passes by. He was tall, in a dark coat. I told him you werent here yet.
A man? Nina stops. Did he give his name?
No, he just said hed come back later.
The words He knows. Run flash through her mind again. Who is this stranger? What does he want? She tries to steady herself, reminding herself that anyone could be asking for information.
She sits at her computer, but a knock interrupts her after half an hour.
Come in, Nina calls, eyes still on the screen.
The door opens and a tall man in a dark coat steps in. Ninas breath catches. Its Andrew, an old schoolmate of Stephens, someone shes only met a handful of times over the years.
Hello, Nina, he says, closing the door behind him. Sorry to barge in, but we need to talk.
About what? her voice rises a notch, nervous.
Andrew looks around as if checking the room is empty, then takes a seat opposite her desk.
Its about Stephen, he says quietly. And about you.
Were split, Nina replies bluntly. If you have business with him, go to him directly.
Its not about the breakup. Its much more serious.
He leans forward, voice dropping.
Did you get my note?
Nina feels a chill run down her spine.
Your note? He knows. Run? What does that mean?
Andrew glances toward the door, then back at her.
It means Stephen isnt who he says he is. He knows Ive uncovered something, and now he might think you know too.
Know what? Ninas mind spins.
What Stephen really does, Andrew pulls a phone from his pocket and shows her a photo. Stephen is talking to a man in front of a drab grey building. This was taken three days ago. Do you recognise the place?
Nina shakes her head.
Its the office of Eastern Investments, the firm the papers have been writing about lately they swindled hundreds of retirees with fake highinterest accounts and vanished with the money.
And Stephen? Nina asks, still bewildered. He works at a car dealership.
Thats a front, Andrew says, showing another picture. Hes one of the organisers.
Nina cant believe it. The man she lived with for four years, who loved weekend cooking and collecting vinyl, is a fraudster?
Why did you write run? she asks, trying to keep her thoughts together.
Because hes dangerous, Andrews eyes are serious. When I started asking questions, people began watching me. The last whistleblower ended up in an accident.
Nina remembers the feeling that someone was watching her that evening. Was it paranoia or real surveillance?
What should I do? she asks, panic rising.
Get out of town, at least until this settles. Do you have somewhere to go?
She thinks of her mother, who lives in a small town three hundred miles away.
Yes, I do.
Then pack and leave today. Ill contact you when its safe to return.
Andrew leaves, and Nina sits staring at the empty desk, the reality feeling like a detective novel she once loved. The photos are real, the note is real.
She walks to Angelas office.
I need to take a few days off for family reasons. Can I have emergency leave?
The director looks worried.
Something wrong? You look pale.
My mothers ill, Nina lies. I have to be with her.
Of course, go. Well manage the writers event without you.
At home, Nina quickly gathers essentials into a small suitcase: passport, some cash, a few changes of clothes. She calls her mother.
Mum, Im coming tonight on the evening train.
Is everything okay? her mothers voice tightens.
No, just missing you.
She passes the bookcase and stops at a framed photograph of her and Stephen on a sunny beach, smiling. She lifts it, studying his face, wondering how she could have been so wrong.
A knock at the door makes her jump. She peers through the peephole: Stephen stands on the landing.
Her heart pounds. He knows. Run. She freezes, unsure what to do.
Nina, I know youre home, Stephens voice is calm, a little weary. Please open the door. We need to talk.
She stays silent, barely breathing.
Its about Andrew, he continues. He was here today, right? Talking about Eastern Investments and me?
How does he know? Is someone really watching her?
Nina, listen, this isnt what you think, his tone softens, pleading. Andrew misunderstood everything. I can explain.
She remains silent, weighing whether to bolt out the balconyshe lives on the third flooror call the police.
Fine, Stephen sighs. If you wont open, Ill leave a note.
He steps back, the sound of his shoes echoing down the stairs. After a few minutes, she carefully opens the door. A folded piece of paper lies on the floor. She picks it up and shuts the door.
The note reads: Nina, Im working undercover. Im investigating Eastern Investments with the police. Andrew is a suspect. Dont trust him. Call me, Ill explain everything. Stephen.
Nina reads the note several times. Who does she believe? Andrew, a nearstranger, or Stephen, the man she shared a home with?
She sits on the sofa, holding both notesHe knows. Run and Dont trust him. The truth is tangled in lies and halftruths.
She dials a number that isnt Stephens or Andrews. Its her old friend Megan, now a prosecutor.
Megan, sorry to bother you, Nina says. I need your help. Can you check some information? Its important.
What happened? Megans voice betrays worry.
Its complicated over the phone. Can we meet?
An hour later they sit in a tiny café two streets from Ninas flat. Megan listens without interruption, then taps her finger on the cold coffee cup.
I can look into both Stephen and Andrew. Itll take time, but well get to the bottom of this.
What now? Nina asks. What should I do?
Go to your mothers. Itll be safer while we sort things out.
That evening Nina boards the eastbound train. Watching the city lights recede, she thinks how ordinary she was yesterday, a librarian grieving a lost partner, and how today shes become the heroine of a reallife thriller.
Midjourney the train rings. Its Megan.
Nina, Ive found out something, Megan says, tense. Stephen really is undercover. He works with the economiccrime unit.
So he was telling the truth? Ninas heart races.
Yes. And Andrew his connections to Eastern Investments are real. Hes actually one of the founders.
A cold shiver runs down Ninas spine. Andrew tried to use her to get at Stephen.
What should I do now? she asks, still processing.
Come back, Megan replies. Stephens looking for you. Hes worried.
Why didnt he tell me before? Nina wonders.
Thats for him to explain, says Megan.
Nina gets off at the next station and catches the return train. At the platform, Stephen is waiting, his shoulders slumped, anxiety in his eyes. Seeing her, he exhales in relief.
Thank God youre okay.
Why didnt you tell me? she asks, the first question that bursts out.
I couldnt, he gestures helplessly. It was a secret operation. Any leak could have blown it. When we got close to the finale, it became too dangerous, so I left to keep you safe.
Protect me? Nina says bitterly. You broke my heart!
Im sorry, his eyes are full of genuine pain. I had no other choice.
They stand amid the bustling station, two people split not only by months of distance but also by a breach of trust.
I dont know if I can trust you again, Nina admits. Too many lies.
I understand, Stephen nods. But I want to make it right, if youll let me.
Nina looks at the man she thought she knew best and realises she never truly knew him at all. Maybe now, with all cards on the table, they can start anew.
Lets go home, she says. Well talk there.
On the train back, Stephen spills everything: how he became an undercover officer, how he infiltrated Eastern Investments, how he met Andrew and the other conspirators, and why he had to disappear.
And now? Nina asks. Is the operation over?
Almost, he replies. We just need to lock up a few more people. Andrews already in custody.
Outside her flats door, Nina pauses.
I dont know what comes next. I need time to process everything.
I get that, Stephen says softly. Ill wait. Whatever you need.
He leaves, and Nina steps inside her empty flat. On the table lie the two notes: He knows. Run and Dont trust him. Both turned out to be halftruths. Life is messier than the detective novels she loves.
She walks to the window, watches the city glittering at night. The future is uncertain, but for the first time in a long while she feels she has a choice. That feels like the most important thing of all.
