Chapter 29
Her
I wake up the next morning feeling like I barely slept at all. My eyes burn, my head feels heavy, and every part of my body aches the way it does after a night spent tossing and turning instead of resting.
For a long time I just lie there staring at the ceiling, not moving, not blinking much, as if I am afraid that the moment I move, the memories from last night will hit me harder. But they are already there. They have been there all night.
His voice. His presence. The way he stood so calmly in my room as if he had every right to be here. The way he held my wrist. The way his gloved fingers felt careful instead of cruel when he applied the ointment.
I shut my eyes for a second, but that only makes it worse because then I can see it more clearly. My chest tightens.
How can the same person who terrifies me also make something inside me feel… safe? The thought makes my stomach twist. Shame burns through me hotter than the burn on my fingers.
I force myself to sit up. The room feels too quiet again, like it is waiting for something. My gaze moves slowly to the table where I left the iris flower. It is still there, untouched, its pale petals soft and glowing in the morning light.
For a moment I just stare at it. Then I stand and walk toward it slowly, like I am approaching something fragile and dangerous at the same time. I pick it up carefully and turn it between my fingers, studying every detail. The petals are smooth. Perfect. Not a single flaw.
A strange shiver runs down my spine. He left this here. He was in my room. Close enough to my bed to place it. Close enough to watch me sleep if he wanted to. My grip tightens slightly around the stem.
"Why?" I whisper quietly, though I do not even know who I am asking.
I should throw it away. I know I should. Any normal person would. But instead I place it back exactly where it was, adjusting it slightly so it lies neatly. My heart beats faster as I do it, because keeping it feels like admitting something. Something I am not ready to admit even to myself.
I get ready slowly, my movements sluggish, my thoughts distracted. His voice keeps replaying in my head over and over like it has carved itself into my memory. You should be more careful.
I grip the sink as the words echo again. Why does that line stay with me? Why that one? He threatened me before. He frightened me. He admitted he wanted to see fear in my eyes. Those are the things I should remember. Those are the things that should stay stuck in my mind.
But instead I remember the quiet concern in his voice.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror while brushing my teeth. My eyes look tired. Unsettled. Like they belong to someone who has not felt safe in a long time. I tilt my head slightly, studying my own expression.
"What is wrong with you?" I murmur under my breath.
The girl in the mirror looks just as confused as I feel.
I finish getting ready and leave for work, locking the door carefully behind me. By the time I reach the office, my nerves already feel worn thin.
The moment I step inside, I hear whispers. They are quiet, but not quiet enough.
“…still no sign of him…”
"…no trace of him…"
"…like he just vanished…"
The words hit me like cold water. My stomach drops. I keep walking toward my desk, pretending I am not listening. My hands feel colder than they should.
I sit down and open my files, trying to focus. The screen blurs slightly as I read the same line again. And again. And again.
I have no idea what it says.
My mind goes back to Mike. To the video. To the iris flower. To Him. And on the pattern I am starting to see but do not want to believe.
A shadow falls over my desk.
"Iris?"
I look up. Sarah is standing there, her expression soft with concern. "Are you okay? You look distracted today."
I force a small smile. "I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep well."
She studies my face for a moment like she does not believe me. "Are you sure? Because you don’t look just tired."
"I’m okay." I repeat gently. "Really. Just a long night."
She hesitates, then nods slowly. "Alright. But if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here, right?"
"I know." I say quietly. "Thank you."
She gives my shoulder a small reassuring squeeze before walking away, but I can still feel her concern lingering in the air long after she leaves.
During lunch I stay at my desk, poking at my food without appetite.
My thoughts drift back to him again, no matter how hard I try to stop them.
I remember the way he stood close. The way his voice lowered when he spoke.
The way his hand held mine steady like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I swallow hard and look down at my hands. "This is stupid." I whisper to myself. "You’re being stupid."
But the feeling does not go away.
After work I head straight to my therapy session, my steps heavy with everything I need to say. The moment I walk into the room, Dr. Nathaniel looks up from his chair with his usual calm expression.
"How have you been, Iris?" He asks gently.
I sit down across from him and let out a slow breath. "Not great. Things feel like they’re piling up faster than I can handle."
I pause, studying his face carefully. "But before we talk about me… I need to ask you something. Has everything been okay with you? Have you noticed anything strange? Anyone following you or watching you?"
His gaze sharpens slightly, though his tone stays calm. "Everything has been fine. You don’t need to worry about me."
"I do worry." I admit quietly. "Because it feels like anyone close to me might get dragged into this somehow."
He leans back slightly, folding his hands. "That sounds like a heavy fear to carry."
"It is." I whisper.
"But I assure you." He says gently. "I am not in any danger. Let’s focus on you. Tell me what happened."
So I do.
I tell him about last night. About the masked man appearing again. About the burn, the ointment. About his voice. About how close he stood. About how I felt.
Dr. Nathaniel listens without interrupting, his eyes steady and thoughtful.
When I finish, he says, "That’s a noticeable change in his behavior. How did it make you feel when he touched your hand?"
I hesitate. Shame creeps up my neck. "Confused." I admit. "For a second… I felt safe. And then I hated myself for feeling that way. He’s still the same person. Still dangerous."
He nods slowly. "Mixed emotions are very common when someone frightens you but also shows unexpected gentleness. Your mind is trying to make sense of something that doesn’t follow normal logic."
"So I’m not crazy?" I ask quietly.
"No." He says. "You’re human."
The session goes on longer than usual. By the end of it, my chest feels a little lighter, like speaking the thoughts out loud loosened their grip just enough for me to breathe properly again.
As I stand to leave, he rises as well.
"I have some work outside today." Dr. Nathaniel says calmly. "I could drop you home if you’d like."
I hesitate, adjusting my bag strap on my shoulder. "I don’t want to impose on you again."
"You wouldn’t be imposing." He replies. "I wouldn’t offer if I minded."
Something about the steadiness in his tone makes it clear he means it. He isn’t saying it out of politeness. He’s saying it because he wants to.
I give a small nod. "That’s kind of you."
We walk out of his office together and move down the hallway. The clinic is nearly empty now, the usual daytime noise gone. Our footsteps echo softly against the polished floor, the sound strangely loud in the silence.
Something about the stillness makes me more aware of everything, the faint hum of the lights, the distant ticking of a wall clock, the quiet presence of Dr. Nathaniel beside me.
We step outside the building.
Evening has settled in. The sky is dimming into deep shades of blue, streetlights flickering on. The air is cooler now, brushing lightly against my skin. My eyes move automatically across the street, scanning faces, shadows, parked cars. The habit has become instinct.
A car slows as it approaches us. When the vehicle pulls up right in front of the entrance and stops, my shoulders tense without meaning to. The window rolls down.
"Hey, Iris. Therapy session over?"
I blink in surprise. Al is sitting in the driver’s seat, smiling like this is the most ordinary coincidence in the world.
"Al? What are you doing here?"
"Driving." He says lightly. "And offering you a ride."
I glance between him and Dr. Nathaniel, feeling awkward. "You don’t have to…"
"I was in the area anyway." Al adds casually, one hand resting over the steering wheel. "Figured I’d check if you needed a lift."
I hesitate for a second, my fingers tightening slightly around the strap of my bag. Something about the timing feels strange, but I can’t explain why. I glance at Dr. Nathaniel, who is standing quietly beside me, his posture relaxed, his expression calm as always.
"Thank you for offering, Dr. Nathaniel." I say, giving him a small, polite smile. "Really. But I think I’ll go with Al."
For a brief moment, his eyes hold mine. He doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t look surprised.
"Of course." He says gently. "Take care, Iris."
There is something steady in the way he says it, something that lingers even after he stops speaking. I nod once, then turn and walk toward the car.
The passenger door clicks open, and I slide into the seat. The interior smells faintly like cologne and leather, familiar but somehow sharper tonight. I pull the door shut and buckle my seatbelt, my movements slower than usual, aware of Dr. Nathaniel still standing outside.
As the car begins to move, I glance back through the window. He is still there. Standing exactly where we left him. Watching.
He doesn’t wave. He doesn’t move. He just stands there, his gaze fixed on the car as it pulls away, his face unreadable in the dim light outside the clinic.