Elena Vaughn had learned to live inside her routines. They were neat, predictable structures—safety disguised as normalcy. Morning classes. Afternoon shifts at the lab. Quiet evenings in her apartment with textbooks spread over the desk. She kept her world small, deliberate, controlled.
But after seeing Ethan, even from a distance, her routines felt… fragile.
She tried not to think about him the next day, or the next, or the one after that. She tried to bury the memory of his silhouette—the familiar slope of his shoulders, the thoughtful intensity in his gaze. But every time she walked across campus, she found herself glancing at corners, checking the reflections of windows, listening for footsteps that lingered too long.
Not because she feared him.
But because part of her feared she wouldn't see him again.
That fear confused her more than she wanted to admit.
Ethan Young had never been good at doing nothing.
The witness protection message had been clear. Direct. Final.
Stay away.She is not Roselyn.Do not interfere.
He should have left campus that same afternoon, boarded his flight, and continued his evaluation tour as planned. But instead, he stayed. Quietly. Cautiously.
He did not approach Elena.He did not speak to her.He never stepped within twenty feet of her.
But he watched. Not in secrecy—he didn't skulk behind trees or follow her through crowds—but with a professional's observational distance. Enough to reassure himself. Enough to confirm she was safe.
Yet he never shook the feeling that something was wrong.
Elena Vaughn was quiet, diligent, responsible—not unusual traits. But there were moments, subtle and fleeting, when her expression shifted into something he recognized intimately.
A shadow of pain she hid.A small, cautious pause before answering a question.The way she scanned unfamiliar faces the way soldiers scanned a battlefield.
Roselyn had looked like that in the past. After the incident when she was sixteen. When their family had briefly mistaken silence for strength.
He saw that expression again in Elena, and his heart twisted.
So he lingered. Only long enough to reassure himself that his mind wasn't inventing ghosts.
Elena noticed him again three days later.
She had stopped at the vending machine near the engineering building, tapping her toe impatiently while the machine ingested her coins at a snail's pace. She pressed a button, waited for the dull clunk of a soda dropping—and caught a glimpse of him through the glass reflection.
Ethan.
Her breath hitched. The bottle dropped from the machine, forgotten. She stood frozen as her pulse hammered in her ears.
He wasn't approaching.He wasn't staring directly.He was just… passing by. Talking to a man in a suit, no expression on his face.
But his eyes flicked toward her once—barely a second—and her heart sank into her stomach.
He recognized her. She knew it.Even if he couldn't prove it.
Her thoughts spun.
Did he know?Did he suspect?Did he… believe she was alive?
Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the bottle. She forced herself to breathe slowly, to calm the rising storm under her ribs. She couldn't afford messiness. Couldn't afford a slip.
Yet when she returned to her apartment, Elena didn't turn on her laptop to study. Instead, she sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, hands in her hair, struggling to contain the conflicting emotions that surged up all at once.
She wanted to be seen.She wanted him to leave.She wanted him to find her.She wanted him to stay far, far away.
She wanted—most painfully—to hug him and say, I survived, but the rules wrapped around her throat and pulled tight.
The witness protection team arrived again that evening.
Two short knocks.No words until the door was locked behind them.
"Ms. Vaughn," Agent Clarke said calmly, "you've had continued visual contact with the subject."
Elena nodded stiffly. "He hasn't approached me."
"We know," the agent replied. "We've been monitoring him since your last report."
She swallowed. "Did he—did Ethan do anything wrong?"
The shorter agent shook her head. "No. Your brother has been compliant with the warning. He is keeping distance. But his presence alone creates risk."
Elena's throat tightened. "He doesn't know."
"We are aware," Clarke replied softly. "But this cannot continue. If he continues to linger, he may attract attention from third parties. And in your case, attention is dangerous."
Dangerous.Her survival depended on invisibility.She knew this. She accepted this.
Still… her chest ached.
"What do you need me to do?" she whispered.
"Nothing," Clarke said. "We will speak with Mr. Young again. But we want to prepare you for the possibility that you may need to relocate."
Her breath stopped halfway.
Relocate.New identity.New city.New life. Again.
Her fingers curled into fists. "No… no, I can't. Not now. This place—my exams, my program—"
"We understand," the agent said, her voice steady but firm. "But your safety is the priority."
Elena turned her gaze toward the window, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "He won't hurt me. He's my brother."
"That," Clarke replied gently, "is exactly why his presence is dangerous. Family bonds leave traces. Traces lead to exposure."
Elena shut her eyes. A tear slipped free—one she quickly wiped away before either agent could acknowledge it.
"Please," she whispered, "don't relocate me unless it's the last option."
The agents exchanged a glance.
"We will do everything we can," Clarke said. "But that depends on Mr. Young's cooperation."
Elena nodded numbly. The agents left soon after, leaving her alone in the quiet room that suddenly felt too small, too temporary.
Across the city, Ethan received another encrypted message.
This time, the tone was sharper.More urgent.Less patient.
"You are interfering with a protected case. Cease all visual proximity to Ms. Vaughn immediately. Failure to comply will result in escalation."
Ethan exhaled slowly, jaw tight.
He didn't know why Elena Vaughn needed protection.He didn't know why the agency was so determined to keep him away.He didn't know whether she was Roselyn or just painfully, beautifully similar.
But he knew one thing:
He couldn't risk endangering her.
For the first time in days, Ethan forced himself to turn away from the courtyard. Away from the lab building. Away from the route she always took to the cafeteria.
With a final glance over his shoulder—one filled with unanswered questions—he walked away.
Back in her apartment, Elena sat on the floor, knees hugged to her chest. The room was silent except for the faint hum of her desk lamp.
She felt the moment he left.
Not with her eyes, but with her heart—a fragile, bruised part of her that she kept hidden even from herself.
She pressed her face against her knees, whispering into the quiet:
"Ethan… I'm sorry."
Because she knew—
This wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed.
The past had begun to stir.And buried secrets never stayed buried forever.