I hadn't worn heels in three years.
They were medieval torture devices. But they matched the pencil skirt I bought for this position, so I talked myself into just gritting it out and pretending to be the kind of woman who wore heels on purpose.
"You've got this," I muttered to myself as I walked into the building. "Normal day. Normal people. Normal job.".
No one screamed. No one stared. The lobby did not reek of smoke or blood. Just coffee, paper, and floor wax.
I flashed my ID at the counter, smiled at the security guard like a civilized human would, and took the elevator to the 12th floor.
It was so quiet I could hear my heart beating.
When the doors opened, a woman with bright cherry red lipstick was already waiting.
"You're Mai, aren't you?"
I nodded.
"I'm Ava," she said, already moving. "HR said to bring you around. Come on. You'll love it here."
Her high heels struck a metronome rhythm pounding out the polish on the hall. I followed behind her, attempting not to limp.
"Monthly reports, team lunches, Fridays are casual," she reported. "Don't be shocked if someone invites you to cookies by noon."
"Sounds. Nice," I replied.
"You say that like it's ominous," she said.
"Sorry. I've just never had a job. nice before."
Ava spun back to me and arched an immaculately manicured eyebrow. "Don't worry. It grows on you."
We passed by a row of cubicles where people were already hammering away, sipping coffee cups, and grumbling under their breath. A guy was singing softly as he filled out a spreadsheet. Another woman had a little potted plant with googly eyes on the container taped to the top.
I fixed my eyes straight ahead. Less chance of being drawn into anything personal.
Ava stopped in front of a small corner space with an unmanned desk, a closed laptop, and a sticky note that said "Welcome, Mai!"
"This is your station for the week," she told me. "You're riding with the logistics coordinator this week, then solo next Monday."
"Great."
"Need anything?"
A time machine? A full personality transplant?
"Nope," I said.
She smiled at me hesitantly and vanished down towards the elevator.
I leaned down slowly, smoothed my skirt, and opened the laptop.
Breathed.
Okay.
This was okay.
A do-over.
No woods. No blood. No claws or teeth or screams.
Just coffee breaks and spreadsheets.
And someone behind me whispered, saying, "He's here."
I did not turn back right away.
Whoever said "he's here" said it the way people talk about ghosts. As if they respected. or feared him.
Whispers echoed through the room like a wind. Chairs groaned. Someone cleared his throat. Even the hummer dude cut off mid-note.
I minimized the spreadsheet I hadn't even started and glared in the direction of the hallway.
Nothing.
Then the elevator pinged.
Everyone in the room had an urgent task to focus on. Email. Coffee. A smudge on their glasses.
I didn't move.
I reminded myself not to glance. Not to notice. Not to care.
And then I looked anyway.
He materialized into my field of vision like something from a slow-motion shot—tall, jagged lines, standing there in a slate-grey suit that probably cost more than my first vehicle. He wasn't loud, but his presence was pull-you-in powerful. Like gravity leaned towards him.
He walked with a purpose. As if he'd never questioned the decision of his life.
I stared.
I couldn't help too.
Something in my chest cracked.
That stride. That stance. That tension in the jaw.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't.
Cold all over I felt. Then hot. Then nothing.
He turned slightly, speaking to the person beside him. I saw his profile.
My stomach rumbled.
Lucien.
No—not Lucien Just a resemblance. More probable. More plausible. Lucien couldn't be here. Wouldn't wear clothes like that. Wouldn't be seen in boardrooms and corner offices.
The Lucien I knew—
He screamed in the moonlight.
He bled.
He ran.
And then he was gone.
But the man walking toward the glass-walled conference room now? He was calm. Composed.
Human.
A voice behind me said, "The CEO's with him. He must be the new project lead."
"Speaking of safety officer," someone's voice whispered back.
"Yeah, but nobody knows what he does. He's on this insane contract. Reports only to the highest person."
Of course, he is.
I glared back at my screen. My fists were clenched, white-knuckled, on my lap.
It wasn't him.
It couldn't be him.
I wouldn't survive it if it was.
I tried to continue working.
Or at least fake it.
I scrolled through mock spreadsheets and entered a random date into a cell just to keep my hands active. Anything to be normal.
But my gaze kept straying upwards.
He was standing just at the edge of the conference room now, talking with the CEO and another executive .He wasn't grinning, but he wasn't scowling either. You can't just grasp his mood. Controlled.
Like he'd been taught to become untouchable.
I'd seen him otherwise.
Lucien had been emotional. Smirky. Guarded at times, sure, but never this cold. Never this slicing.
This guy looked like he could sign on the dotted line and seal someone's fate with the same phrases.
And then, suddenly, he turned.
Our eyes locked.
I froze.
It wasn't that he looked like Lucien
It was the way his eyes narrowed—not with annoyance, but with something else. Something… searching.
I blinked.
He blinked.
And for a moment, the whole room disappeared. The hum of computers, the soft clatter of keyboards, the smell of someone's toast that was too burnt to be eaten in the break room microwave—it was all gone.
There was just him and me.
Ten years took ten seconds to fall away.
And then he looked away.
As if none of it had happened.
As if he hadn't looked at me like a ghost.
My breath caught. I hadn't even realized that I'd stopped breathing until I forced myself to let it out.
He said nothing.
Didn't flicker. Didn't call out my name.
Maybe he didn't notice me.
Maybe I'd changed enough.
Maybe he did recognize me and didn't want to accept it.
I glared at the back of his head as he turned to go, fighting to make sense, fighting to suppress the building confusion in my head.
You're safe, I told myself. He's not going to hurt you. That man in a suit—he's not the same.
But I already knew the truth deep down.
He was the same.
The same eyes.
The same energy.
The same pull in my belly that I was disgusted with myself for feeling.
I just sat there looking at my screen for a long while after he vanished into the conference room.
I wasn't accomplishing anything. Not quite. I opened files and closed them, clicked on tabs, typed three lines of nonsense, and then deleted them again.
My heart hadn't slowed down to its normal rhythm. Not by a long way.
I still wasn't sure it was him. I mean, what were the odds? People had lookalikes, right? Perhaps the universe just hated me enough to put one in my office.
But those eyes.
They weren't the same.
They were the same.
I caught a glimpse of myself on the blacked-out screen. My face was white. Not theatrically so. Just. exhausted. Stretched. Like someone overexerting themselves trying to hold themselves together.
No one noticed. Or cared.
Except for the woman sitting across from me.
She had short curls and thick glasses that gave her a look like she belonged in a kooky Indian movie. I had not heard her name.
You all right?" she asked suddenly, not even looking up from her keyboard.
I blinked. "What?"
She nodded toward me without moving her head. "You're white-knuckling your mouse like it disrespected your family."
I looked down at my hand. It was clasped around it like a lifeline.
"Sorry," I muttered. "First-day jitters."
She let out a soft snort. "Sure. Let's go with that."
Then she looked up.
Her eyes weren't judging. Just. Perceptive. Too perceptive.
I tried a half-smile. "Trying to acclimatize myself to the rhythm here."
She clicked her keys, eyes returning to the scrutiny of the screen. "Rhythm is great. It's the individuals that'll get to you."
I wasn't sure what to make of that.
Before I could respond, the conference room doors opened.
And out came he.
Lucien.
Or the possible Lucian
He didn't look my way.
He didn't hesitate.
He just disappeared—confident, unflustered, without showing any emotion, and walked off down the hallway once more.
I let out a breath I had not known I was holding.
The woman across from me tilted her head to one side, being silent, merely looking at me as people look at a cat in a tree, being polite with crossed fingers that it is going to get itself killed.
I looked away and grasped my coffee.
It had cooled.
Just like everything else had