Part 88
The night air was colder than usual, thin and quiet except for the sound of crickets. Adrian hadn't expected anyone—certainly not her.
Alex stood under the soft porch light, a paper bag in her hands and that same unreadable smile on her face.
He felt his muscles tighten, instinctively ready to run, but she raised her hands in a gesture of peace.
"I just came to say goodbye," she said softly. "You were right to leave. I shouldn't have followed."
Her voice trembled just enough to sound sincere.
Inside the bag, she showed him a thermos. "It's just tea. One last time. Then I'll disappear, I promise."
He hesitated. Every instinct screamed no. But her eyes—the way they flickered with exhaustion, regret—made something in him falter.
"Fine," he said, his voice low. "One last time."
They sat outside on the small wooden bench beside the café, where the vines trailed down from the roof. The tea was warm, fragrant, almost comforting.
Alex spoke softly, about the weather, the stars, the way the air smelled of rain. Ordinary words that didn't match the undercurrent of something else—something heavy and strange.
As she talked, Adrian's thoughts began to drift. The night grew hazier, quieter. He blinked once, twice. His body felt… heavier.
Alex's voice sounded distant now.
"You can rest now, Adrian," she murmured. "You don't have to keep running."
His vision swayed—then darkness.