Enzo’s POV
I sit in Doc Olivier’s office, but my mind is elsewhere. The sterile white walls, the faint scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall—none of it registers. My body is here, but my thoughts are tangled in sothing else, sothing unseen yet pressing against my consciousness like an itch I can’t scratch.
Sothing about today feels off—as if the universe is trying to tell sothing, whispering in a language I don’t understand. It started this morning. The strange breakfast that appeared in my kitchen—warm, perfectly made, yet I hadn’t cooked it. Then, the eerie sensation of being watched as I left my apartnt. And now, this. Him. The man in the hallway.
He wears a mask and a cap, the brim pulled low enough to shadow his face. I never saw his features, yet sothing about him feels disturbingly familiar, like a song I’ve heard before but can’t recall the lyrics to. The worst part? He’s been there all day. Every single ti I’ve walked through that hallway—five tis now, to be exact—he’s been standing in the sa spot, never moving, never looking away. A shadow just beyond reach.
A sick feeling curls in my gut. Could he be my stalker?
The thought slams into like a truck, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my veins. My pulse spikes, my palms dampen. I sit up straighter, forcing myself to breathe, to think. But my mind is already spiraling, racing through mories, trying to pinpoint why this presence unsettles so much.
I can’t just sit here.
Before I fully process my decision, I’m already moving. I shoot up from my chair, barely registering Doc Olivier’s startled expression as he calls my na. His voice barely reaches , muffled by the pounding of my heartbeat. I don’t stop.
I reach the hallway.
And there he is.
Exactly where he was before. Unmoving. Watching.
Ti stretches, slowing to an agonizing crawl.
My instincts scream at —run, catch him, unmask him. And I do.
I surge forward, my breath sharp in my throat. "Hey!" I yell, but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even hesitate. Then, just as I close in, he moves—faster than I expect. A blur, slipping through my fingers like smoke.
I chase him.
My feet pound against the floor as I weave through startled patients and hospital staff. Their eyes follow , confused, concerned, maybe even scared. Soone yells sothing, but I can’t focus. I push harder, ignoring the burn in my legs, my breath coming in sharp gasps. He turns a corner. I follow.
But just as I reach the hospital’s front doors—he’s gone. Vanished. Like he was never there.
I stop, breathless, panting like a dog under the sumr sun. My pulse pounds in my ears, my chest heaves, and yet my eyes keep searching. How did he run so fast? It’s impossible. One second he was right in front of , and the next—nothing. Not even a lingering trace. No sound of retreating footsteps, no shadow slipping into the night. Just empty air where he stood, like a ghost fading into the wind.
A shiver races down my spine. Was he ever really there? Or was I losing it?
"Enzo, are you okay?"
The voice jolts from my daze, grounding back in reality. I turn sharply, finding Doc Olivier watching with an expression of concern. I hadn’t even realized he followed .
"I thought I saw soone I knew," I say, forcing a half-smile even as my hands tremble slightly at my sides. "Guess it was just my eyes playing tricks on ."
He studies , eyes dark and unreadable. I expect him to question further, to press for more details, but instead, he does sothing unexpected. He takes my hand. His grip is warm, steady, anchoring. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, a small, soothing gesture. It does help—just not as much as I wish it would.
"For a second, I thought you were running away from ," he says, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Why would I?"
"Good question." He gives my hand a light squeeze before letting go, and for so reason, I imdiately miss the warmth. "Co on, let’s get so lunch. I also have sothing to talk to you about."
I hesitate for just a beat, glancing back at the doors one last ti. Still nothing. Still no sign of him. With a sigh, I follow Doc Olivier back inside, though my mind remains tangled in the mystery of the masked man.
Inside his office, he places a neatly wrapped chicken sandwich and a bottle of my favorite yogurt in front of . A small gesture, but thoughtful. He sits beside , though sothing about the way he watches feels... deliberate.
"What about you, Doc?" I ask, peeling back the wrapper of my sandwich.
"Don’t worry about . I ate sothing earlier," he replies smoothly.
I nod, standing up to wash my hands. The routine motions should calm , bring back to the present, but when I reach for a towel, I freeze.
It’s embroidered with my na.
My breath catches. He got a new one for ?
Sothing in my chest tightens, unexpected and unbidden. When did he do this? How long has he been this attentive? The warmth of realization spreads through , battling the unease still gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
I dry my hands slowly, my fingers brushing over the stitched letters of my na before I return to my seat. This ti, I make sure to put just a little extra space between us. Not because I don’t trust him—but because I don’t trust myself not to get lost in the quiet, careful way he cares.
I take a bite of my sandwich, letting the familiar taste ground . But even as I chew, my mind keeps circling back to the masked man. To the impossible way he vanished. To the feeling that this isn’t over.
"Are you okay? You don’t like the sandwich? I thought I got it right." Doc Olivier said.
"Huh? No, no, I’m fine and the sandwich is delicious, it’s just how I like it. How did you know this is how I like my sandwich?"
"Well, I went to the eatery you love to frequent and ask them what you like to order and how you like you sandwich. It wasn’t easy but I got it and so I went back ho and tried to recreate it until I got the right taste."
Tears welled up in my eyes, why is he so sweet? Is this a sign that he feels the sa way about ?
"Doc Olivier why are you doing this? You are giving mix feelings," I can’t take it anymore, I need to know why, I need to know his intentions.
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