Morning arrived like a lie. Sunlight touched my curtains gently, as if nothing strange had happened, as if I hadn't closed my eyes in a place that shouldn't exist and woken up in my own bed without knowing how I returned, as if jade-green eyes hadn't looked into me like I was something fragile and dangerous at the same time.
My body felt heavy. Not tired, but weighted, like something invisible had wrapped itself around me in my sleep and hadn't fully let go. I sat up slowly, pressing my fingers into the mattress to make sure it was real. My room was exactly as I left it. The window was locked. The door was locked. There were no signs of anyone being here and no signs of anyone leaving. I should have felt relieved, but instead I felt watched, not in a threatening way, just in a quiet way, like something patient had decided I was interesting.
Work felt wrong that day. Everyone was quieter than usual and conversations stopped when I walked past. Even the air inside the building felt heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Taylor didn't look at me much and Daisy didn't look at me at all, and that alone was enough to unsettle me.
Taylor sat by the window during lunch, staring outside instead of eating. His jaw was tight and his hands were clenched around his phone like he was waiting for something or afraid of it. I sat across from him.
"You okay?"
He blinked like I had pulled him out of a deep thought.
"Yeah. Just tired."
"You've been tired for days."
He smiled faintly.
"Guess this town is finally getting to me."
Something about him felt thinner, like a thread had been pulled through him and left a hollow space behind.
"Daisy's not with you today."
His shoulders stiffened.
"No."
He didn't explain and neither did I.
That evening I didn't go home immediately. I drove without direction, not toward the forest or the restaurant, just forward, until the roads narrowed and the trees thickened and the air felt colder for no reason. Then my car stalled again. I stepped out and wrapped my jacket tighter around myself. The forest was quiet, too quiet, without insects or wind, just silence thick enough to feel alive.
Then I felt it, that same pressure behind my ribs, that subtle pull like a thread tightening around me.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice came from behind me, calm and close. I turned and saw him standing only a few steps away, tall and still, dark coat, dark hair, pale skin catching the moonlight, and jade eyes that were not bright like gemstones but deep like something alive beneath stone.
"Do you say that to everyone who gets lost?"
He curved his lips slightly.
"Only the ones who aren't meant to wander."
"Am I wandering?"
"You are circling."
"Circling what?"
"Me."
I swallowed.
"Do you have a name?"
"Names are inconvenient."
"That wasn't my question."
"You may call me Lucien."
The name slid into me too easily.
"I didn't invite you."
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
He stepped closer, not enough to touch, just enough that I felt his warmth and smelled something subtle and unfamiliar, something clean and old and alive.
"Because you don't belong to the silence you keep trying to hide inside."
"Are you going to hurt me?"
"No."
"Are you going to use me?"
"Not unless you ask."
My breath caught.
"Then what do you want?"
He leaned in slightly.
"To see whether you are as human as you think you are."
He straightened.
"And whether you remain so."
Then he stepped back and the pressure lifted, the forest breathed again, and when I blinked he was gone, leaving only the trees, my car, and my racing heart.
That night I couldn't sleep, not because I was afraid, but because for the first time in a long time I felt chosen, not by fate or blood or revenge, but by attention, and that felt far more dangerous.