(Elora's POV)
Elora first noticed him outside the lecture hall.
Not in a way that set off alarms or raised suspicion. Just a quiet awareness, like recognizing a face in a crowd without knowing where it belonged. He stood near the corridor wall, speaking to a lecturer in low tones. Posture relaxed. Confident. Too confident for a student.
Their eyes met briefly.
He inclined his head, just slightly.
"Hello," he said, polite and unassuming, as she passed.
"Hi," she replied without slowing.
It was nothing. People greeted each other all the time.
Still, she glanced back once and caught him staring. He shifted his gaze almost immediately, then disappeared around the corner.
Two days later, she saw him again near the tutorial rooms, flipping through a folder while a stream of students passed him. Their eyes met again. That faint flicker of recognition stirred in her chest.
He smiled this time. Brief. Controlled.
She frowned inwardly and kept walking.
By the end of the week, it had happened four times. Always brief. Always harmless. A passing glance. A nod. A quiet greeting. He never stopped her. Never asked her name. Never lingered long enough to invite conversation.
And yet—
She couldn't shake the feeling she was missing something obvious.
Do I know him?
She searched her memory relentlessly. A lecturer? A guest speaker? Someone at work? The coffee shop? No. Nothing fit.
Eventually, she told herself the truth she always relied on.
You're stressed. Exams do this to people.
By the time exams began, her world narrowed to notes, lecture slides, and deadlines.
She informed her mother she'd be staying late at the library. Again.
"I'll be careful," she promised. She always was.
Settling into her usual spot by the far windows, she spread her materials across the table. Hours slipped by unnoticed. Focus sharp. Almost unforgiving.
Every now and then, thoughts drifted—briefly—to her father.
The man he used to be. Before the drinking. Before the debts. Before apologies stopped meaning anything. She imagined what her life might have been like if none of that had happened. She let out a sigh.
Pushed the thought away. Back to her work. Easier that way.
A couple of hours later, the power went off without warning.
Lights blinked once—then darkness swallowed the room.
Elora froze.
Her phone lit up the table. 9:47 p.m.
Her stomach dropped. Silence pressed in from every corner of the library. Too silent.
She stood slowly, heart thudding. The reality hit.
Her section was tucked too far back. Hidden behind shelves.
"I—hello?" she called, voice small, uncertain.
Nothing.
She packed her things quickly, breath uneven, and hurried toward the entrance. The door didn't budge.
She knocked once. Then harder.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
Still nothing.
Then—a shuffle. A presence. Behind her.
I'm not alone, she realized. A mix of fear and relief washed over her.
A voice spoke before she could place a face.
"You're still here."
Her scream tore through the dark, bouncing off empty shelves. She spun around, pulse roaring.
A figure stepped forward from between the shadows.
Him.
Her heart slammed painfully. Recognition crashed over her like lightning.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"What—what are you doing here?" she asked, gripping her bag like a shield.
"I must've fallen asleep," he replied calmly. "Your shouting woke me."
She stared at him, trying to reconcile the explanation with the situation.
Of all people. Of all nights. Him.
Together, they found a way out. A side exit that hadn't fully locked. Fresh air never felt so relieving.
The campus was quiet. Too quiet.
Her phone buzzed uselessly in her hand. No buses. None heading her way.
He offered to drive her home.
She hesitated. The word no hovered on her tongue, instinctive. She didn't owe him anything. Not trust. Not acceptance. Not proximity.
But the campus was empty. Security lights hummed faintly, shadows stretched across the concrete. The silence pressed against her skin.
Her phone screen dimmed as the battery slipped lower.
"I can call a cab," she said, doubt threading her voice. Unsafe to let a stranger know her address. Even if she had seen him before, she didn't know him.
"They'll take a while," he replied calmly, checking his keys. "It's not exactly safe to wait around here this late."
It unnerved her—how reasonable he sounded, how calm, how certain.
She studied him carefully. Respectful distance. Neutral expression. Body angled away. No rush. No pressure. Just an offer placed carefully between them.
Her chest tightened. Refusing felt impractical. Accepting felt reckless. Exhaustion tipped the scale.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Just… thank you."
His car was parked a short distance away. Dark. Unassuming. Leather interior faintly scented of metal and rain.
She buckled her seatbelt, fingers stiff, staring straight ahead.
Neither spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward. That unsettled her more than if it had been.
As the car pulled away, a thought crept in uninvited.
Soft. Insistent.
This wasn't fear. Fear was loud. Immediate. Demanding. This felt… different.
He drove her a few blocks from home. She was careful not to reveal her exact location.
As she opened the door, she muttered quietly, breathless, "Thank you… and goodnight."
His voice stopped her heart for a fraction of a second.
"Goodnight, Elora," he said. Low. Deliberate. Unmistakable.
Her hand froze on the handle. Her breath caught.
The sound of her name—spoken by him—echoed in her mind. How could he know? Why did it feel like he'd always known?
She shut the door slowly, leaning against it for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Mind racing.
Something had shifted. Something had begun.