Evelyn POV
By the time I got home, the house felt quieter than it had any right to be.
Not empty—just… subdued.
Liora met me at the door, finger pressed lightly to her lips before I could even ask.
"She's asleep," she whispered. "Finally."
Relief loosened something in my chest I hadn't realized was still tight.
"Deep sleep?" I asked.
Liora nodded. "The kind where you don't move, don't twitch, don't even frown. The doctor said that was a good sign."
"Good," I murmured. "She needs that."
We moved farther inside, shoes off, voices low. The living room lights were dimmed, curtains drawn halfway like the house itself was trying to protect what was inside it.
Liora dropped onto the couch like her bones had suddenly forgotten how to hold her up.
"She keeps apologizing," she said quietly. "Even in her sleep. I heard her mumbling earlier. Saying she was sorry for being a burden."
I frowned. "She's not a burden."
"I know that," Liora said quickly. "You know that. But she doesn't. Not yet."
I sat beside her. "She will."
Liora leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Then, out of nowhere, she laughed.
I turned to her. "What?"
"My mom," she said. "You know what she said when she saw him?"
"Him?"
"The cop. Your mysterious childhood friend." She snorted. "She looked at him and said, 'So this is how policemen look now? No wonder crime is increasing.'"
I blinked.
Then I laughed.
Out loud. Harder than I had in days.
"She said that?" I asked.
"She did. He didn't even know how to react. Just stood there holding his gun like—like—" Liora gestured vaguely. "Like it was suddenly the wrong accessory."
"That sounds like her," I said, smiling.
"She also asked if he was married."
I choked. "Liora—"
"I swear. Right after being untied. First words out of her mouth."
I shook my head, still laughing. "Unbelievable."
"But he handled it well," Liora said, grinning. "Smiled politely. Said he was married to his job."
"That's his standard line."
"Oh, so you know it?"
I raised an eyebrow. "We went to the same school. He's always been like that."
Liora studied me. "You never told me you knew a handsome, capable police officer who can dismantle kidnappers like it's a warm-up exercise."
"It never came up," I said simply.
"Hm." She smirked. "Convenient."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't start."
She laughed again, softer this time. Then the laughter faded.
"Evelyn," she said quietly.
I looked at her.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not panicking. For thinking. For not letting me fall apart."
I held her gaze. "That's what friends do."
She swallowed. "Still."
I squeezed her hand once. "Get some rest. You look worse than your mother."
She huffed. "Rude."
"But true."
She stood reluctantly. "I'll check on her again. Then maybe sleep."
"Please do."
When she disappeared down the hallway, the house fell quiet again.
Not heavy. Just… still.
I sat there for a while, letting the silence settle. Letting my thoughts catch up with me.
The kidnappers were arrested.
Liora's mother was safe.
The immediate danger was gone.
But I knew better than to think it was over.
Someone had been bold enough to touch someone close to me.
That meant something.
My phone buzzed.
I glanced at the screen.
Kai.
I stared at the name longer than necessary before answering.
"Hello?"
"Wow," his voice came through, warm and familiar. "You still answer unknown calls. Some habits never die."
I smiled despite myself. "You're saved in my contacts, Kai."
"Good," he said. "I'd be offended otherwise."
"How did you get my number?"
"You gave it to me. Two years ago. You said, 'In case I ever need to disappear.'"
I frowned. "That doesn't sound like me."
"It does," he said confidently. "You were dramatic."
"Still am."
He laughed. "Are you free tonight?"
I hesitated. Then, "Yes."
"There's a restaurant near Westbridge. You remember the one?"
"The one with terrible chairs and great food?"
"That's the one."
"I'll be there."
"Good," he said. "We have a lot to catch up on."
After I hung up, I changed quickly—nothing fancy, just jeans, a fitted top, low heels. I left a note for Liora and stepped out.
The restaurant hadn't changed much.
Same mismatched chairs. Same cramped tables. Same comforting smell of spices and oil and familiarity.
Kai was already there.
He stood when he saw me.
"You're late," he said.
"You're early."
"Still arguing semantics," he noted. "Some things really don't change."
Neither did his smile.
We ordered before sitting down, slipping into old rhythms like no time had passed at all.
"So," he said, leaning back. "Model."
"So," I replied. "You."
"Still alive," he confirmed. "Still annoying."
"Checks out."
We talked about everything.
School memories. Mutual friends. His job. My move. Things that had gone wrong. Things that had somehow gone right.
He told me about the time he got lost in another city because he trusted the wrong map app.
I told him about the time I wore two different shoes to an interview and didn't realize until halfway through.
He laughed so hard people turned to look.
"I knew it," he said. "You always pretend to be composed, but chaos follows you like a shadow."
"Rude," I said. "Accurate, but rude."
Time passed without us noticing.
Outside, across the street, a man sat alone.
A newspaper was raised just high enough to cover his eyes.
He wasn't reading.
He was watching.
When Kai stood to pay, the man folded the paper and rose too.
Outside, he stepped aside, phone already in hand.
"Yes," he said quietly.
A pause.
"She met someone."
Another pause.
"A man. Tall. Close."
Silence stretched.
"Maybe," he added carefully, "her lover."
The line went dead.
Inside the car across town, Adrian's hand tightened around his phone until his knuckles whitened.
He stared out the window.
And said nothing.