The dock worker left just before one in the morning.
He didn't say much more after the warning. Just climbed back into his truck, gave Arman one last look that said be careful, and drove away into the quiet street.
But the words he left behind stayed.
The closer she gets to remembering… the closer the killer gets to her.
The house felt different now.
Heavier.
Arman sat at the kitchen island, staring at the half-empty glass of water in front of him.
Samantha stood nearby, silent.
Neither of them had spoken for several minutes.
Finally, Arman broke the quiet.
"So… that was encouraging."
Samantha didn't smile.
She was staring at her hands again.
Something about them looked slightly different tonight.
Not solid.
But not as faint as before.
Almost like her outline had become sharper.
Arman noticed.
"You look… clearer."
She looked up.
"Clearer?"
"Yeah."
She raised her hand slowly.
The faint glow around her fingers shimmered for a moment.
Then faded again.
Her expression tightened.
"That man was right."
"About you getting stronger?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"And that means…"
Arman finished the sentence quietly.
"You're getting closer to remembering."
Samantha swallowed.
"I don't know if I want that."
"You said that before."
"Yes."
She looked toward the window.
"What if remembering makes things worse?"
Arman leaned back in the chair.
"It might."
She turned back to him.
"That's not comforting."
"No," he admitted.
"But not knowing is worse."
She studied his face for a moment.
"You're very calm about all of this."
"Trust me," he said.
"I'm panicking internally."
That finally made her smile faintly.
But the moment didn't last.
Because suddenly—
A sharp pain flashed through her head.
Samantha gasped.
Her body stiffened.
Arman jumped to his feet.
"Samantha?"
She grabbed the side of the counter, her eyes squeezing shut.
The room around her blurred.
A sound filled her ears.
Not from the house.
From somewhere else.
From memory.
A car door slamming.
Her breath catching.
Darkness outside the window.
The ocean.
And the voice.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Too calm.
"Relax."
The memory surged forward violently.
Arman stepped closer.
"What's happening?"
Her voice trembled.
"I—"
The words broke.
Another flash.
The backseat of the Uber.
The smell of bleach.
The driver's reflection in the rearview mirror.
Then....
The car stopped.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed inside.
A hand grabbed her arm.
Samantha cried out.
"I remember!"
Arman's heart pounded.
"What do you see?"
Her breathing grew uneven.
"He pulled me out of the car."
"Who?"
"I—"
Her voice caught.
Because suddenly the memory changed.
Not the driver.
Someone else.
Standing there near the containers.
Waiting.
A silhouette under the yellow dock lights.
Her eyes widened.
"No…"
Arman's voice dropped.
"Samantha."
She shook her head slowly.
"I know him."
The room went silent.
Arman felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"You recognize him?"
Her breathing shook.
"Yes."
The image in her mind became clearer.
A man stepping forward from the shadows.
Not a stranger.
Someone familiar.
Someone she had spoken to before.
Someone she had trusted enough not to panic when she first saw him.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"I've seen him before."
Arman felt his chest tighten.
"Where?"
Samantha's eyes slowly opened.
But they weren't focused on the kitchen anymore.
They were somewhere else.
Back at the docks.
Back in that moment.
"He was waiting for me."
"Waiting?" Arman asked.
"Yes."
The realization settled over her like ice.
"This wasn't random."
Arman's voice was quiet.
"You mean the driver knew him."
"Yes."
The memory sharpened again.
The man stepping closer.
The dock lights revealing his face.
Her stomach twisted.
"I know that face."
Arman moved closer.
"Who is he?"
Samantha's voice trembled.
"He came to the café once."
Arman blinked.
"What café?"
"The one I worked at."
Her hands shook slightly.
"He ordered coffee."
Her breathing slowed as the memory pieced itself together.
"He talked to me."
Arman's heart pounded harder.
"What did he say?"
Samantha stared at the floor.
"He asked when my shift ended."
Silence filled the kitchen.
A cold, terrifying realization spread through both of them.
He had been watching her.
Long before that night.
Long before the Uber ride.
Arman spoke quietly.
"He planned it."
Samantha nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Her voice dropped even further.
"He knew exactly where I would be."
Arman ran a hand through his hair.
"Do you remember his name?"
Samantha tried to pull the memory forward.
But the image flickered again.
The face blurred.
The name slipped away.
"I can't see it clearly."
"That's okay," Arman said.
"You remembered something."
Samantha looked at him.
Fear mixed with something else now.
Determination.
"He's real."
"Yes."
"And he's still out there."
Arman nodded.
"Yes."
A long silence settled between them.
Then Samantha said quietly.....
"And he knows I'm dead."
Arman looked at her.
"Yeah."
She swallowed.
"But he doesn't know…"
She paused.
"…that I'm still here."
Arman met her eyes.
"No."
But somewhere deep inside his chest, a new thought had started forming.
Because if Samantha could recognize the killer…
Then eventually, the killer might recognize her too.
And when that happened, nothing would stop him from trying to silence her again.