Part 19
The rain came early that night.
Thin at first — a soft drizzle that painted the city in silver.
Adrian finished rehearsal late, exhaustion sinking into his bones, and his driver had already gone home.
He told his team not to worry; he just wanted quiet.
He slipped into his car alone, the sound of rain tapping against the windshield like a steady rhythm.
For the first time in days, he felt calm.
The sunflowers, the messages, the flickering shadows — all of it faded for a moment beneath the hum of the engine and the glow of city lights.
He told himself it was over.
That whoever had been watching him would grow tired and vanish into the noise of the world.
But sometimes, peace feels too easy.
Too rehearsed.
-------------
Across the city, Ethan watched from his computer — not the crash itself, not directly.
But the tracker he'd planted on Adrian's car blinked softly on a map.
He hadn't wanted to do it this way.
He told himself it was just to scare him.
To make him feel what he had felt — powerless, humiliated.
He whispered to himself,
"Just fear. That's all. Just fear."
But the thought didn't sound convincing.
-------------
Adrian turned onto the winding hill road that led home.
The rain grew heavier, blurring the headlights into streaks of gold.
He reached to turn on the wipers, but they didn't move.
Then, the dashboard lights flickered once — twice — and died.
The steering wheel stiffened beneath his grip.
A metallic click echoed somewhere deep in the car's frame.
Then silence.
Adrian's breath caught.
He tapped the brakes — nothing.
The city lights spun in the distance, blurred by rain.
For a heartbeat, everything hung still —
the sound, the motion, the fear.
Then—
Light.
A burst of white, blinding, endless.
And then, nothing at all.
Ethan's tracker beeped once, then went dark.
He stared at the screen.
His hand hovered over the keyboard, trembling.
He waited for the signal to return — for something —
but the silence that followed was too long, too complete.
He whispered, almost pleading,
"I didn't mean…"
But the words dissolved in his throat.
-------------
Hours later, the news broke.
"Idol Adrian Lee involved in serious car accident — condition unknown."
Ethan's phone buzzed nonstop with notifications.
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
The rain outside his window looked the same as it had on Adrian's road — silver, endless, indifferent.
And for the first time, Ethan realized what he'd actually done.
Not a rivalry.
Not revenge.
Something darker.
Something that couldn't be undone.
He turned off the screen.