Continued from the moment Zaire walked out
Niah stood still, her hand lingering in the air as if she needed it for support. The familiar smell of old books and dust floated back in, but the atmosphere felt changed, like Zaire had taken the room's warmth along with him.
She pressed her fingers against her temple. Who was he?
Zaire Castellan.
That was his name. It sounded almost too smooth for someone whose entrance felt like a storm holding back its force.
And the way he spoke, full of certainty and knowledge, it gnawed at her thoughts.
"You've been seeing things."
Was she just imagining things, or did he truly say that? But you wouldn't say something like that to just anyone, right? You must really know them, or atleast have experienced it yourself.
She let out a hard breath, trying to shove the memory down as she grabbed the stack of books he had touched.
Her hands shook a bit, and it was not due to cold or fear; instead, it was more like something… familiar nudging against her nerves.
As she rearranged the shelf, Maria peeked around the corner. "Niah, did Zaire bother you?"
"Urgh… No," Niah replied, but immediately corrected herself. "Actually, yes. No. I don't know."
Maria raised an eyebrow, examining her like she was a puzzle that needed solving.
"You look like you've just been hit with a question you can't quite figure out."
Niah exhaled sharply, rubbing her forehead. "More like twelve."
Maria didn't press further. She tilted her head slightly, giving her a look filled with quiet understanding.
"Take the rest of the evening off. I'll take care of closing up."
Niah hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Maria waved dismissively toward the nearest shelf.
"You're so lost in thought that you just tried to shelve Tolstoy under 'Modern Dating.' Just go home."
Niah opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again. She knew better than to push back.
So, she left.
Outside, dusk had seeped into the streets like spilled ink.
The lamps weren't lit yet, and the shadows made the cobblestone path feel longer than it should. Her boots echoed hollowly against the stones, and for a moment, she wondered if…
She tightened her scarf and turned the corner toward her street, but then stopped abruptly.
A black cat dashed across the road in front of her. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Except…
She heard footsteps behind her.
Niah spun around in an instant, scanning the empty street, but found nothing unusual. Just a flickering lamp and an abandoned bike unsteadily tipped by the sidewalk.
But the air felt charged.
And then, silence.
Then, that same feeling again.
The one that made her skin feel too tight. The one that had saved her once before. She quickened her pace.
By the time she got to her flat, she was panting, shallow breaths escaping her.
She slammed the door behind her, chest heaving. Her keys clattered to the floor, and she leaned against the door, heart pounding like it was trying to send her a warning.
What she'd felt out there was unclear. She did not know what had followed her. But one thing was certain: this wasn't finished.
Not by a long shot.
As she peeled off her coat, something slipped from the pocket, something she had not put there.
It was a folded piece of old parchment slipped out, thin and fragile.
She opened it carefully, her hands turning ice-cold. Only one word was scrawled in careful ink:
"Soon."
* * *