Ava's POV
The hallway was too quiet.
Midnight again. I was the last one in the studio. No footsteps. No music. Just me, the smell of turpentine, and the low hum of a storm building outside the window.
I didn't know why I stayed late anymore.
Maybe because I felt safer in the light.
Or maybe—because a part of me was waiting.
I shouldn't have been.
The lights flickered once. Then again.
That's when I felt it:
Not a sound. Not a sight. Just the shift—like the air behind me had thickened. Like someone was breathing in my breath.
I turned.
And he was there.
Adrian Blackwood.
Leaning against the doorframe like he belonged to the shadows.
I couldn't move. Couldn't think.
He didn't look at me the way normal people did. He didn't even blink like them.
He studied me—like I was a question he'd already answered. Like I was the ending to a story he'd been writing in secret.
"I've been waiting for you to see me," he said softly.
His voice was low, velvet-wrapped and storm-heavy. Too intimate. Too calm.
"I don't—" I started, backing up.
He took one step closer.
"I've seen every version of you," he whispered. "The one you hide. The one you paint. The one that cries in the dark. You leave your light on at 3:14 a.m., Ava. Every night."
I froze.
My heart was racing. My blood rushed in my ears.
But I couldn't speak.
Because somehow, a part of me wasn't surprised.
His voice was closer now. "You don't have to be afraid of me."
I shook my head. "But I am."
He smiled. It wasn't kind.
It wasn't cruel either.
It was honest.
"I know," he said. "And I love that about you."
---
He turned then. Walked away. Just like that.
But before the door shut, he paused. Didn't look back.
"I'll see you soon, Ava."
A beat. A whisper.
"You always see me. Even when you say you don't."
The lights flickered one last time.
And he was gone.
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