Eva left Lucien standing by the river, but he didn't leave her.
She walked fast, forcing herself not to look back, yet she felt the weight of his gaze, lingering like a phantom touch. How did he know her name? And why had she spoken his as though she had always known it?
Her breath was uneven by the time she reached her apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, and she exhaled in relief. Safe. Rationality began to reassert itself.
There's an explanation for this.
She had read about something like this before—cryptomnesia, the phenomenon of mistaking a forgotten memory for something new. Maybe she had overheard his name in passing, maybe she had seen him before and simply forgotten.
But in her gut, she knew that wasn't true.
She turned on the lights and moved to the mirror by the entryway. Her own face stared back at her—wide green eyes, tousled dark hair, skin too pale from the cold night air. She looked the same. But she felt different.
Then, the lights flickered.
Eva froze. The apartment hummed with silence, but the air felt heavier somehow, charged. She glanced over her shoulder, pulse spiking. The room was empty.
A breath of wind stirred the curtains. The window is closed.
She told herself to turn away, to stop imagining things, but then—
A shadow moved behind her reflection.
Eva whirled around. Nothing. No one.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. The room was still, untouched. But in the mirror, just for an instant, she could have sworn—
A whisper brushed her ear. "Eva."
She gasped and spun again. The room remained empty. But the feeling of presence lingered.
Lucien.
Somehow, impossibly, he had followed her.
Or maybe… he had never left.