As Alex poured himself a glass of water, his hand froze mid-air at the sound of a knock. He squinted toward the door, head tilting slightly.
Another knock—sharper this time.
He gently set the jug down on the table and made his way to the door, each step slow and cautious.
Who could it be at this hour?
He checked the door camera. Nothing. No one on the doorstep. Frowning, Alex opened the door and stepped outside. Just as his slipper touched the welcome mat, something crunched beneath his foot.
His brows furrowed. He looked down and spotted a thick, white card, adorned with a crimson ribbon and his name etched in neat cursive across the front. He picked it up and glanced around—still, silent street. Not a soul in sight.
His pulse quickened.
Who dropped this?
He flipped the card over, curiosity prickling through him. Carefully, he unfolded it—and froze.
His eyes widened. The card nearly slipped from his trembling fingers but he caught it just in time, his breath catching in his throat.
His heartbeat thundered. Cold seeped into his spine, numbing his legs.
"Wh-what?" he stammered, his throat bobbing, his skull pulsing with a sudden sharp ache.
Frantically, he scanned the area, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. He broke into a sprint, heading for the small garden beside his apartment, weaving through trees and flowerbeds.
Nothing.
No one.
He bent over with palms braced on his knees, gasping for air.
Who could've known my name? My address?
Straightening, he glanced at the invitation card again.
"Silvercrest High School - 20th Anniversary Reunion. All alumni Invited."
His chest tightened.
Who knows me? Who knows I live in DraheskCity? Chris?
Alex shook his head. It can't be him.
The card trembled in his hands, his body burning from the inside out, rage and fear twining together.
Whoever it was…
His fingers tightened around the card until it creased and bent in his grip. His eyes darkened. His jaw clenched.
Whoever it is… I'll find them.
Sophie had held her breath as Alex stood just inches from the tree she was hiding behind. Only when he walked back inside, did she exhale quietly and step from the shadows.
Her gaze followed him up the steps and into his apartment. Her lower lip trembled. Clutching her handbag tighter, she wiped her cheeks before the tears could spill, then fixed her eyes on the apartment window.
I wish I could tell him who I am.
Every day, after work, she came here—hidden by trees—just to watch him from a distance. Her heart ached watching him move around his house alone.
No friends. No family. No one waiting at home.
At work, he smiled. Laughed. Made jokes. He wore charm like a second skin. But when he walked through that door, the silence swallowed him whole. No music. No clinking dishes. Just stillness—like the house itself was holding its breath.
She once overheard a colleague wished he could be like Dr Alex.
If only they knew…
Sophie's eyes glistened.
If only he knew the man behind the smile—carrying scars, hiding darkness.
She remembered the moment vividly—the day she barged into his office to report a critical patient.
He was changing shirts.
He froze when he saw her and hurriedly tugged the shirt down. Turned with a forced grin.
"What is it?" he asked, voice straining for casualness that didn't quite land.
But she had already seen it.
The deep, angry scar stretching across half of his back, skin melted and wrinkled—evidence of a fire that had marked him forever.
"Are… are you okay?" he had asked gently, noticing her tears.
She hadn't even realized she was crying. Quickly, she shook her head and wiped her cheeks.
"I'm fine," she had whispered.
And for a moment, her lips parted—ready to speak the truth, to tell him everything. But instead, she pressed them shut and bit her lower lip, swallowing the words before they could escape.
Now, staring at his window, her tears returned. Her feet ached to move forward, to knock on his door—but her body stayed frozen, as if the wind itself held her back.
That shouldn't have happened to him.
She turned away, quickening her pace—then broke into a run, as though trying to outrun the ache swelling in her chest, the truth locked behind her lips. Each time she vowed to speak, fear coiled around her throat, tight as a noose.
I'm sorry I haven't told you. I want to stay. I want to be with you… but I don't want to be a burden.
From a distance, she turned for one last look at the apartment.
I'm sorry, Rahim.
Covering her mouth to stifle the sobs, Sophie disappeared into the night, shoulders trembling, heart cracking in silence.
Author's Note:
While writing this chapter, I found myself holding my breath alongside Alex—his fear felt so real, it was like I could hear the silence pressing in around him. And Sophie… her quiet pain, the way she watches from the shadows, tore at my heart. At one point, I just wished I could let them meet—just for a moment of peace, a chance to speak the truth.
There's so much still hidden between the lines. What did Alex really fear in that moment? Who could Sophie truly be to him?
And here's a little hint—Alex's first thought was Chris. But why Chris? What does that tell us about the past Alex is running from... and the person he's afraid might have found him?