Part 24
Note: (Aura and Alex is the same person. Aura is her real name and Alex is her fake name.)
The hospital released Adrian on a quiet morning.
The city outside felt louder than he remembered—cars, cameras, the pulse of fame waiting to swallow him again.
Alex was already there with a car, his schedule printed neatly, and a calm smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Everything's arranged," Alex said. "Your apartment's been cleaned, security upgraded. You'll be safe."
Safe.
The word landed strangely. Adrian hadn't told anyone about the anonymous sunflowers or the card with Justice blooms.
Back at home, the world looked too perfect.
Every trace of the crash was gone, every reminder replaced by order: new curtains, rearranged shelves, a vase of sunflowers exactly like the ones from the hospital.
He stared at them.
"Did you—bring these?"
Alex glanced over from the tablet.
"They were delivered earlier. I assumed you liked them."
Adrian's pulse stumbled.
He hadn't told anyone. Not even his manager.
In the days that followed, Alex worked quietly, anticipating every need.
The right interviews, the right words to say, the right songs to record once his strength returned.
Almost too right.
Once, when Alex stepped out, Adrian checked the assistant's bag left on the table—inside, a sleek phone with no brand, no carrier logo.
When he pressed the screen, it came alive for a second:
a wallpaper of sunflowers on a dark background,
and a single word at the top—AURA—before it blinked off.
Adrian's hands went cold.
He placed the phone back exactly where it had been.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
The city lights spilled through the window, making the sunflowers seem to glow.
From the next room, he could hear the faint sound of typing—Alex working late again.
He told himself not to overthink it.
He was grateful, wasn't he?
Someone had to rebuild his life.
But then, through the quiet, a voice drifted from the other room—soft, careful, almost affectionate:
"You'll never be alone again."
Adrian froze.
He wasn't sure if she was speaking to someone on the phone—or to him.
By morning, Alex was back to her calm, precise self.
She handed him a tablet with his new schedule, smiling slightly.
"You're trending again," she said. "People missed you."
He nodded slowly, watching her eyes as she spoke—steady, unflinching, unreadable.
Somewhere inside him, a quiet realization began to take root.
Whoever Alex really was, she'd already woven herself into every part of his life.
And if he didn't find out the truth soon, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to untangle it.