While Marshall was driving through the streets of New York without a fixed route, he passed several times by the bar where the five of them always met. He passed twice by the park where Lily once drew the three of them together—said drawing would be stored in some drawer of the apartment if she hadn't taken it—and passed by the museum Alyx once dragged them to for a modern art exhibition that Lily was excited to see.
Then, without planning it, he found himself turning onto a street that led to the Kellett Hotel, an elegant building with large, well-lit windows that could be clearly seen from the car's interior.
He gripped the steering wheel upon seeing the hotel sign, and in his mind echoed the promise he made to Alyx before leaving the apartment, accompanied by Ted's voice—you're the miserable ghost of Marshall.
He took a deep breath, thinking about getting out and searching for the room. He remembered Alyx again and instead looked for a place to park comfortably to watch the hotel entrance.
After parking and turning off the car, he kept his gaze fixed on the hotel door. He didn't know what he expected to see there. Lily leaving arm-in-arm with someone else? Her entering alone? Perhaps seeing George Clinton entering with his pet ferret and her waiting for him at the door?
What he saw, however, he could hardly have imagined even after almost two hours of surveillance. He saw a guy dressed in a cheap suit, skinny and wearing dark glasses, running out through the revolving door, chased by hotel security guards and what looked like a cliché detective from a movie in a dark trench coat. He watched the clear struggle as they handcuffed him and took him to a patrol car that approached quietly from the other corner of the hotel to its door.
The arrest lasted less than five minutes before the patrol car left and everything returned to its normal state on the street.
-Who was that?- Marshall was still processing what he had seen when he received a text message on his phone.
From: Alyx - All good, getting some air. The silence is suspicious, Marshall-
Marshall looked at the hotel and then at his phone. His determination wavered with the confusion of the situation.
From: Marshall - Yes, I didn't go to the hotel. But I saw something weird. I'm heading back-
When Marshall returned to the apartment, the first thing he saw was everything dark, with only the living room lamp on. On the sofa sat Alyx with two blankets, and on the coffee table were two cups—one of tea and one of coffee that she was already drinking.
"What did you see?" she asked without beating around the bush.
Marshall slumped down next to her on the sofa. For the first time in weeks, there was no tension between them, and he told her about the strange man who was arrested fleeing the hotel.
Alyx listened attentively and silently to his story, murmuring when he finished, "A thief or a scammer."
"Do you think..." Marshall swallowed hard before continuing, "That Lily could be involved in something?" he asked, afraid of a positive answer.
Alyx quickly shook her head. "No, Lily is... many things, but not a criminal. But what if it wasn't her making the purchases? What if that guy stole her credit card?"
The simple but logical idea was like a bucket of cold water—the possibility that clearly existed since he saw the arrest.
"The guy with the raspy voice," Marshall started slowly. "He wasn't with her now. He was a thief."
Alyx nodded. "It's a possibility. A very strong one."
An immense relief began to flow within him, mixed with a new wave of concern for Lily. "My God, we have to call her... We have to tell her about this."
"I already did," Alyx began calmly.
"While you were out, I called the hotel. I asked to speak to Lily Aldrin, and when they transferred me and that guy answered, I simply said I was from the bank reporting fraudulent activity. The guy who answered hung up immediately. As soon as he did, I called the police and anonymously reported the possible scam, giving the hotel details and the room number."
Marshall looked at her in amazement. Amid his own chaos, she had acted with impressive coldness and efficiency.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, confused.
"Because you needed to reach that conclusion on your own. Or at least, you needed to calm down enough to listen to a reason that wasn't so painful." Alyx took a sip of her coffee cup. "And also because I needed to do something useful that wasn't cleaning and caretaking."
Marshall continued to look at her with a concentration as if unraveling the secrets of the universe, and there he saw pain just as deep—the absence, the feeling of having failed to keep their family together, similar to what he felt, only he saw that she handled it in her own way by building walls that protected or enclosed her emotions.
"Thank you, Alyx," he said, and this time the words weren't a formality. They were a deep recognition. "For… for being here. For keeping things together. For thinking when I couldn't."
Alyx nodded, with a brightness in her eyes that hadn't appeared in so long. "I couldn't do less. I love you both." This simple, direct declaration hung in the air between them. It wasn't a reproach or a demand. It was just an acknowledgment of her feelings for them.
Marshall reached out and covered her hand that held the cup. It wasn't a romantic gesture, but one of camaraderie—a mutual recognition on the battlefield of a broken heart.
"I love you too, Alyx," he whispered softly. "And I miss our Lily."
"Me too," she admitted, and a single tear—the first she allowed herself to shed in front of him—traced its path down her cheek. "But now we know one more thing."
"What?"
"Most likely, she isn't in the city. That she probably doesn't have a funky boyfriend. And that her card was stolen." Alyx sketched a sad, almost imperceptible smile. "It's data. And data, even if it hurts, is better than ghosts."
That night, for the first time since Lily left, Marshall didn't lock himself in the bedroom, and Alyx didn't stay alone on the sofa. Instead, they stayed together silently in the living room, watching an old movie. That moment, beyond sharing the physical space together, was their way of sharing the pain, accompanied by a cup of tea and coffee, until both succumbed to exhaustion.
Of course, it wasn't a happy ending. Nor a beginning. It was their foothold, where they could start to rebuild something together, even if they didn't know what it was or if Lily would be part of it.