(Michelle Lui's POV)
The first few minutes of the hike were fine.
Peaceful, even.
Early autumn sunlight dripped through the trees like warm honey, scattering across the trail in golden patches. Fallen leaves cushioned each step with a soft crunch. The air was crisp, clean, and carried that forest scent — pine, damp bark, and a faint sweetness I couldn't name.
It should have been relaxing.
It SHOULD have been.
Except every single person walking behind me or near me was radiating tension like they were plugged into emotional power outlets.
Ahead, Andy led the way with Jeff beside him, mapping the trail on his phone like some overly handsome, overly prepared tour guide.
To my left, Kate was adjusting her water bottle strap for the third time. "This is fine," she muttered. "This is a normal hike. With normal friends. Who are behaving normally."
"…Kate?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"You're squeezing your bottle like you're trying to juice it."
She slowly released it.
