Part 61
(Alex's POV)
Evening drew the city into its usual blur of light. From her window the skyline looked soft, almost kind.
Alex sat with her laptop balanced on her knees, refreshing a page that showed public posts tagged with his name.
Every few minutes a new piece appeared: a photo from a distance, a rumor about his return, guesses about what it meant.
Together they formed a pattern—scattered, unintentional, but traceable if you knew where to look.
She followed the trail until one post caught her eye: a short video of the street below Adrian's apartment.
The uploader's comment was nothing but emojis, but in the corner of the clip she recognized a faint reflection in the window—his silhouette moving past.
She didn't need more than that.
Proof of life, proof of direction.
She muted the sound and watched the thirty-second loop over and over, noting the small details that no one else would see:
the rhythm of his walk, the way he held his phone slightly away from his ear, the pause before he reached the door.
He's trying to look ordinary again, she thought. That means he's trying to feel safe.
Alex set the laptop aside and turned off the room's single lamp.
In the darkness, the city's noise rose up through the open window—distant sirens, traffic, a train bell somewhere far away.
It was the same sound she used to hear through his videos, through his music.
She closed her eyes, listening until the edges between memory and present blurred.
Each sound stitched itself into a map in her mind: where he might go, who he might talk to, which corners he'd avoid.
She wasn't chasing him; not yet.
She was studying the rhythm, waiting for the right measure to begin again.
Everything comes back in cycles, she whispered to the dark. Even him.