LOGINAira almost called Lucien three times that morning. The first time was while Zayn searched the apartment for his missing shoe, his small voice echoing through the hallway while she stood near the kitchen counter gripping her phone too tightly. “Mum, I think it disappeared.” Aira blinked, dragging herself back from the thoughts consuming her. “Shoes don’t disappear.” “They do when I’m late.” Despite everything pressing against her chest, the corner of her mouth twitched faintly. She walked toward the couch, crouched slightly, and pulled the missing shoe from underneath it. Zayn gasped dramatically. “See? It was hiding.” “Clearly.” He grinned before rushing off again, completely unaware that her hands were trembling. The second time she almost called Lucien was after dropping Zayn at school. She had just pulled away from the curb when she noticed the black car again. Across the street. Parked too still. Too deliberate. Aira’s stomach tightened instantly.
Aira had learned something very early after Zayn was born. Silence could feel safer than truth. Especially when truth had consequences. The apartment was quiet that morning, soft sunlight filtering through the curtains and falling in thin lines across the kitchen floor. Zayn sat at the counter eating breakfast, completely absorbed in his dinosaur book, his voice breaking the stillness every few seconds with innocent excitement. “Mum, this one can run very fast.” Aira glanced over, forcing a small smile. “Faster than you?” Zayn thought about it seriously. “Maybe.” That almost made her laugh. Almost. Her phone buzzed on the counter. Unknown Number. The smile faded instantly. Aira didn’t move for a second. Just stared at it, like if she didn’t acknowledge it, it would stop existing. Then she picked it up. No text preview. Just an image. She opened it. And everything in her chest went still. Zayn. Yesterday. Walking out of school. Captured from
Lucien had spent years believing silence was control. If he ignored something long enough, buried it deeply enough, eventually it would stop existing. That was how he survived the last three years. He worked longer hours. Expanded the company. Filled every empty space with something productive enough to keep his mind from wandering backward. It worked. Until Aira came back into his life. Until Zayn. Until one impossible resemblance turned old grief into something far more dangerous. Doubt. The office was nearly dark now, illuminated only by the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the windows. A soft rain had started sometime after midnight, tapping faintly against the glass in an uneven rhythm that somehow made the silence heavier instead of softer. Lucien sat alone behind his desk, the reopened case file spread in front of him. He had reread the same pages three times already. Not because he was searching for answers. Because he was searching for consisten
Aira didn’t realize she was staring until Zayn spoke again. “Mum?” She blinked and looked down at the drawing in his hands once more. Three figures. Him. Her. Lucien. Zayn followed her gaze quickly before speaking again, almost defensively. “Uncle Adrian was supposed to be there too, but I ran out of space.” Something in her chest tightened unexpectedly. Not because of what he said. Because of how quickly he felt the need to explain it. Aira forced a softer expression and brushed a hand lightly through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. It’s a nice drawing.” Zayn grinned immediately, satisfied with her answer, before jumping off the couch and running toward his room again. “I’m going to color it!” “Okay,” she replied quietly. The apartment fell silent again after he disappeared. Aira remained seated for a moment longer, her thoughts slower now. He was getting attached. Not carefully. Not cautiously. Naturally. And that was the dangerous part. Becau
Lucien didn’t call ahead. He didn’t need to. By the time he arrived, the house was quiet in the controlled, deliberate way it always was. The lights were dim but intentional, the space arranged with the kind of precision that suggested nothing was ever left to chance. Selene liked order. She liked knowing exactly where everything stood. Including people. He let himself in without knocking. She was in the living room, seated comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of water resting lightly between her fingers. The television was on, muted, the moving images casting soft light across the room. When she looked up and saw him, she didn’t startle. She didn’t even look surprised. If anything, there was the faintest trace of expectation in her expression. “You’re early,” she said, her tone easy, almost conversational. Lucien closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing just enough to shift the atmosphere. His gaze settled on her, steady and unreadable.
Aira did not go straight home after picking Zayn up. She sat in the car for a few minutes, the engine running, her hands resting on the steering wheel while Zayn talked beside her about something that had happened in class. She responded when needed, nodded at the right moments, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. What she had seen that morning—and what Zayn had confirmed that afternoon—didn’t leave room for doubt anymore. This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t harmless curiosity. This was deliberate. By the time she finally pulled out of the school parking lot, her thoughts had settled into something steady and clear. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to wait for it to escalate before doing something about it. The apartment felt quieter than usual that evening. Zayn had finished his homework and was stretched out on the living room floor, completely absorbed in a cartoon, his laughter breaking through every now and then in short, careless bursts. Aira stood
Aira thought she would feel relief after seeing him again.That was what she had expected. Closure. Distance. A clean emotional cut that would allow her to return to the quiet life she had carefully rebuilt.Instead, she felt restless.The apartment felt different that night. Smaller somehow. Like
He showed up that evening without telling her. No message. No warning. Just the sound of the door unlocking again. She stiffened. “You still have that key?” she asked when he stepped inside. “Yes.” “You’re supposed to give it back.” “I will.” But he didn’t. He stood there for a
Aira didn’t tell him about the second appointment. She almost did. When the reminder notification popped up that morning, her first instinct was to text him. Not because she wanted comfort. Just because for three years, he had been the person she informed about everything. Running late. R
He came that evening. She heard his key in the lock. For a second, she forgot he still had access. The door opened. Lucien stepped inside like he had never left. The familiarity of it made something twist in her chest. “I’ll be quick,” he said. He walked toward the study.







