Lily closed the door to her apartment, her mind buzzing from the encounter. She tossed her keys on the counter and leaned against it, her heart still racing. Who was that guy? His dark eyes, the way he moved—everything about him felt so unsettlingly familiar, but she couldn't place him.
As she changed into a pair of loose pajamas, her thoughts refused to quiet. How does he know me? She was sure she'd never seen him before, at least not like this—towering, powerful, and commanding the space around him with every movement.
And now, here she was, preparing for a date with someone who refused to tell her who he was. A playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips despite the unease she felt. Mysterious and bold—he definitely doesn't do things halfway.
But beneath her amusement, the questions gnawed at her. Why did he feel so familiar? And why was he so certain that I'd remember him?
As the night of the date approached, her nerves built. She dressed with care, slipping into a black dress that struck the balance between elegant and understated, and touched up her makeup with shaking hands. The thought of seeing him again stirred a mix of emotions inside her—curiosity, fear, anticipation.
She checked the time. It was almost the moment he'd said he'd come for her, but how was he going to find her? She hadn't told him anything, not even her name.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She froze, the sound sending a jolt of adrenaline through her. Slowly, she walked to the window and peeked out.
Her eyes widened. Three sleek black cars were pulling up in front of her house. The tinted windows gleamed under the streetlights as the cars came to a stop, perfectly aligned. Her heart skipped a beat. What the hell is this?
Before she could process it, men dressed in black suits stepped out of the cars, their movements efficient and synchronized. They lined up by the vehicles, and one of them opened the back door of the first car.
And then, he emerged.
The man from the other night, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, his dark eyes locking onto hers the moment he stepped out. There was no smile, no greeting, just that same intense, unreadable expression that made her pulse quicken.
Lily's breath hitched as she stepped outside. "You're really going all out, huh?" she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
He approached her, his steps slow and deliberate, his presence commanding. When he stopped in front of her, he looked her over, as if assessing her every detail. "Lily Adams," he said quietly, his voice smooth and deep. "You look… perfect."
Her stomach flipped. She hadn't given him her name. Not her first, let alone her last. Her heart pounded in her chest as a wave of unease washed over her. "How do you know my name?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. "You'll find out."
Lily opened her mouth to ask again, but the intensity in his gaze made her words falter. How does he know me?
Before she could push further, he extended his hand. "Shall we?"
Still shaken, she hesitated but took his hand. It was warm and firm, and as he led her to the car, her pulse raced in a mix of fear and excitement. One of the men opened the door for her, and she slipped inside the luxurious backseat, the cool leather beneath her adding to the surreal nature of the moment.
He slid in next to her, and the door closed with a soft thud. As the car glided smoothly into the night, Lily's mind raced just as fast. How does he know who I am? And why won't he just tell me?
The silence between them grew thick, but before she could break it, he spoke first. "Do you ever think about high school?"
The question caught her off guard. She turned to him, her brows furrowed. "Not really," she answered slowly. "It's been years. I barely remember much of it."
He hummed, his gaze fixed on the passing city lights outside the window. "Some people never forget."
A chill ran down her spine at the way he said it—so quietly, yet filled with a weight that made her heart pound harder. "Were you popular or something?" she asked, trying to mask her growing unease with a smile.
He didn't smile back. "No. Far from it."
Lily swallowed, glancing at him. His face was unreadable, but there was something cold in his eyes, something buried deep beneath the surface.
"I was one of the invisible ones," he continued, his voice low, almost too soft. "The ones you walk past without a second glance."
Her throat tightened. Something about his words nagged at her, stirring memories she didn't want to revisit. She had been so focused on being part of the cool crowd in high school—so desperate to be liked—that she had often ignored the quieter ones, maybe even pushed them aside.
"But people change," she said, her voice more defensive than she intended. "High school was a long time ago."
"They do," he agreed, though his tone carried a dark edge. "Some change more than others."
Lily shifted in her seat, trying to suppress the gnawing feeling that was growing in her chest. Who was he really? And why did it feel like she was missing something important?
The car eventually pulled up to a beautiful five-star restaurant. The grand facade was illuminated by soft golden lights, with tall glass windows that framed an elegant, modern interior. As they walked inside, Lily's breath caught at the sight of the chandeliers sparkling overhead, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors and white-clothed tables.
The restaurant was exquisite—far more extravagant than anything she'd expected. The soft hum of classical music filled the air, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled with the delicate aromas of gourmet dishes being served to other patrons.
A waiter led them to a private table near the large floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Candles flickered between them, casting shadows over the table as they sat down.
Throughout dinner, the conversation flowed, but every time Lily tried to steer it toward his identity, he skillfully dodged it. Instead, he talked about the past in vague, cryptic ways. How he had been bullied, how he had been ignored, how people like him were often treated like they didn't exist.
Lily listened, trying to piece it together. He gave her hints, but still, nothing clicked. She didn't know why, but the guilt from his words settled heavily on her. Had she been part of the crowd that made his life hell? She couldn't remember anyone specifically, but the nagging feeling that she might have lingered.
When the meal ended, they returned to the car. Lily's nerves had only grown over the course of the night. Her mind spun, filled with unanswered questions and a strange sense of dread.
They pulled up to her house, and he walked her to the front door. Lily fumbled for her keys, trying to calm the flurry of emotions swirling inside her. She was about to turn and say goodbye when his voice stopped her.
"Lily."
She froze, her back still to him. Slowly, she turned around.
He stepped closer, his presence looming. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something familiar—a flicker of recognition.
"My name is Alexander Lawson," he said softly.
The name hit her like a shock of cold water. Her eyes widened. Alex? The boy from high school. The quiet, awkward boy she had rejected—no, worse. The boy she had laughed at, ignored, even bullied.
Her heart pounded, her breath caught in her throat.
Before she could say a word, he turned and walked back to the car, leaving her standing there, stunned, her mind spinning with the weight of the realization.
"Alexander Lawson".