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THE MAN IN THE DARK

last update Last Updated: 2025-10-21 10:54:01

I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

He’s still standing there across the street, leaning casually against the lamppost like he has nowhere else to be. His black suit absorbs the weak light, but his eyes don’t. 

They lock on me like he can see through

the thin curtain, through the walls, straight into my skull. He lifts the phone to his ear again. My phone buzzes on the nightstand.

I glance at Evan. He’s still asleep, his arm draped carelessly over the sheets. Oblivious.

I grab my phone, hands shaking a little. The screen lights up with a new message. Come outside. My throat tightens. No name, no number, just those two words.

My first instinct is to ignore it. But then another message arrives before I can even put the phone down.

Before he wakes up. I look at Evan again. His chest rises and falls, steady and calm. The man who killed me sleeps like he’s never done anything wrong.

This is insane. I should call the police. I should scream. I should do anything except go outside. But something deep in my gut whispers that this man isn’t random. 

He’s connected to all of this.

I slide out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Evan. The floor creaks under my bare feet, and I freeze, watching him. Nothing. He doesn’t move.

 

I grab my sweater from the chair, slip it on, and tiptoe to the door. Every sound seems louder in the dark. 

 

The click of the lock. The soft hiss of the hinges. The cool night air hits me the moment I step outside.

 

He hasn’t moved. Still leaning there like he’s been waiting for me all along.

 

For a second, we just stare at each other. He looks real. Too real. Tall, broad shoulders, crisp suit, black tie. There’s no way I’d forget a face like that.

 

I finally cross the street. My heartbeat pounds in my ears with each step.

 

“Who are you?” I demand. My voice is low but steady. I hate that my hands are cold.

 

He lowers the phone, slipping it into

his pocket. “Took you long enough.”

“Answer me,” I say.

 

He tilts his head slightly. His voice is smooth, deep, and calm, like someone who never raises it because they don’t have to. 

 

“You’re asking the wrong question.” I fold my arms. “Then what’s the right one?”

 

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between us. My breath catches before I can stop it. 

 

He’s close now, close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his

jaw. “How are you here?” he says softly.

“That’s the question.”

 

I take a step back. “I live here.” A corner of his mouth lifts. “Not anymore".

 

A shiver runs down my spine. “How

do you know that?”

His eyes meet mine, steady and sharp. “Because I saw you die.”

My blood goes cold. “What did you

just say?”

 

“I was there,” he says. “At the ballroom. I watched him put that knife in you.”

 

For a second, I can’t breathe. The sound of the ballroom floods back into my head—the music, the laughter, the feeling of the knife sliding between my ribs.

 

“How?” My voice cracks. He doesn’t look away. “Because I’ve been watching you, Aria.”

 

I hate the way my heart jumps at the

sound of my name in his mouth. Like it belongs there.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here.” I laugh, but it comes out sharp.

 

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I am.” “Not for long, if you keep walking around without a clue.”

 

The wind picks up, pushing my hair into my face. I take a shaky breath and square my shoulders. “If you know so much, then tell me what’s happening to me.”

 

His expression doesn’t change.

“You already know.”

“No, I don’t,” I snap. “I woke up ten years in the past after being murdered by the man I loved. 

 

I can hear people’s thoughts. And now

some stranger in a suit is stalking me in the middle of the night. So no, I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

 

Something flickers in his eyes- amusement, maybe. “Good. That

means you’re not completely lost.

 

“Are you going to give me a straight

answer, or should I just call the

police?”

“You can,” he says calmly. “But it

won’t matter.”

 

I stare at him, waiting for something

more. He doesn’t explain. He just

watches me like I’m some puzzle he

already knows how to solve.

 

“What do you want from me?” I

finally ask.

“Nothing you’re not already willing

to give.”

 

The way he says it makes my pulse

jump again. I hate that it does.

He steps closer, close enough that I

can smell the faint scent of his

cologne. Clean, sharp, expensive.

 

“This second chance isn’t a gift,

Aria. It’s a deal. You just haven’t

figured out the terms yet.”

“What deal?”

“You’ll find out.

 

I want to scream. I want to shake

him until he tells me everything.

Instead, I take a step back and glare

at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “A

little.”

 

My fingers curl into fists. “You show

up at my house in the middle of the

night, tell me you saw me die, and

act like this is some kind of game.”

 

“It is a game,” he says. “You just haven’t learned the rules yet.” I swallow hard. “Who are you?”

 

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Someone who doesn’t like being ignored.”

I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Damian,” he says. “But you’ll remember it eventually.” “Eventually?

 

A slow smile spreads across his

face. “We’ve done this before.”

The words land heavy, like a punch

to the gut. “What are you talking

about?”

 

“You’ll figure it out,” he says again,

as if time is his favorite toy.

I want to yell at him, but then a

thought hits me like a slap. I can

hear everyone’s thoughts.

 

Everyone’s except his. The silence

around him isn’t normal. It’s

deliberate. Controlled.

 

“Why can’t I hear you?” I whisper.

His smile fades a little. “Because I

don’t let you.”

That shouldn’t be possible. I don’t

even understand how I got this

power, but whatever it is, he’s

immune to it. That alone makes him

dangerous.

 

I take another step back. “I don’t

trust you".

 

“You shouldn’t,” he replies easily.

“But you’ll need me.”

My breath catches. “Why?” He tilts his head. “Because the clock’s already ticking. 

 

You think this is about Evan. It’s not. He’s just the beginning.”

The sound of a car passing breaks the silence between us. I stare at him, trying to read the unreadable. His face gives nothing away.

 

“What happens if I don’t listen to

you?” I ask.

His eyes flick down to my wrist,

where the faint mark from the knife

should be but isn’t. 

 

“Then you die again. And maybe next time, you don’t get to wake up.” A chill slides down my spine.

 

Damian straightens his suit like he hasn’t just said the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. 

 

“Go back inside, Aria. Try to sleep. Pretend things are still normal. Tomorrow, play nice with your monster. Let him believe he owns you.”

 

I stiffen. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He looks at me like he already

knows I will anyway. “We’ll talk

again soon.”

 

I open my mouth to ask how he

even found me, but he’s already

walking away. Not fast, not slow.

Just like someone who’s never in a

rush.

 

“Wait,” I call out. He doesn’t stop. I run after him, but when I reach the

corner, he’s gone. The street’s empty. Silent. Like he was never there.

 

I stand there for a long time, breathing hard. My hands are cold, my mind spinning. I should feel safer knowing someone else understands what’s happening to me. 

 

Instead, I feel like I’ve just stepped into a game where I don’t even know the rules.

 

When I finally go back inside, Evan

hasn’t moved. He’s still asleep, the

same fake softness on his face. 

 

I crawl into bed beside him, staring at

the ceiling, Damian’s words echoing

in my head. The clock’s already ticking.

I don’t sleep. Not even a second.

---

Morning light creeps across the

floor. Evan groans and turns over,

throwing an arm around me. My

body stiffens at his touch. He

doesn’t notice.

 

“Morning,” he mumbles into my hair.

“You’re up early.” I don’t answer. My mind’s still stuck on Damian.

 

Evan pulls back, squinting at me.

“Why are you staring at the ceiling

like it owes you money?

 

I blink and force a smile. “Just

thinking.”

“About what?”

“Life,” I say.

 

His thoughts slide into my head easily. She’s clingy when she gets like this. Maybe I should distract her later.

 

If only he knew I could hear every

disgusting little thing. “Big day?” I ask lightly. He grins. “Always.”

Liar.

 

I push the blanket off and sit up. “I

have plans later.” He raises a brow. “With who?” “Lena.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Just be back early

 

I almost laugh. He’s already acting

like my owner. He has no idea the

leash snapped the second I opened

my eyes ten years earlier.

 

 

The rest of the day passes slowly. I

keep seeing Damian’s face in my mind, hearing his voice. The way he said “We’ve done this before” sticks to my ribs like a splinter I can’t get out.

 

I walk to the park in the late afternoon, hoping the fresh air will help. It doesn’t. The same bench. The same breeze.

A single text arrives on my phone.

Tick tock.

 

My pulse spikes. I spin around,

scanning the crowd. Parents.

Joggers. A couple on a picnic

blanket. 

 

No Damian. No black suit.

But I feel him. Like the air shifted

when he looked at me, even if I can’t see him.

 

The wind picks up again, carrying a

whisper I can’t quite catch.

Then the phone buzzes again. Behind you. I whirl around.

 

Someone is standing at the edge of

the path. Not Damian. Not Evan.

A woman.

And she’s smiling at me like she’s

been waiting.

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  • ECHOES OF THE PAST    THE MAN IN THE DARK

    I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.He’s still standing there across the street, leaning casually against the lamppost like he has nowhere else to be. His black suit absorbs the weak light, but his eyes don’t. They lock on me like he can see throughthe thin curtain, through the walls, straight into my skull. He lifts the phone to his ear again. My phone buzzes on the nightstand.I glance at Evan. He’s still asleep, his arm draped carelessly over the sheets. Oblivious.I grab my phone, hands shaking a little. The screen lights up with a new message. Come outside. My throat tightens. No name, no number, just those two words.My first instinct is to ignore it. But then another message arrives before I can even put the phone down.Before he wakes up. I look at Evan again. His chest rises and falls, steady and calm. The man who killed me sleeps like he’s never done anything wrong.This is insane. I should call the police. I should scream. I should do anything except go outside. But somet

  • ECHOES OF THE PAST    PLAYING THE GAME

    When I walk back into the apartment, Evan is standing in the kitchen shirtless, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee.Sunlight spills through the window, catching on his skin, making him look like the man I used to love. It would have made me weak once.Now, all I see is a liar wrapped in soft morning light.“You disappeared,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we were having breakfast.” I close the door behind me and hang my sweater on the hook. My voice is steady when I say, “I needed some air.”His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s looking for cracks in my words.“You’re acting weird.” Weird? Yeah, dying and waking up ten years in the past will do that to you.I force a small laugh. “Sorry. Bad dream. I needed to clear my head.”He studies me for a few seconds before nodding, pretending he’s buying it. His thoughts slide into my head like someone’s whispering in my ear. She’s moody today. Must be that time of the month. I’ll just charm her later. I smile so hard my

  • ECHOES OF THE PAST    BACK TO THE BEGINNING

    The first thing I feel is warmth. A heavy, familiar weight draped over my waist. A soft breath against my neck. For a moment, I almost convince myself it’s just another nightmare. But nightmares don’t feel this real.My eyes snap open.The ceiling above me isn’t the white sterile hospital ceiling I expected.It’s the pale beige ceiling of our old apartment. The one we lived in years ago, when I still believed Evan and I had a future. The curtains flutter in the soft morning breeze from the cracked window. The cheap clock on the nightstand ticks steadily, just like it did when we couldn’t afford anything better.My heart slams against my ribs.Evan’s arm is wrapped tightly around me, his chest pressed against my back. His breathing is slow, even. He’s asleep.I don’t move. I can’t. I just stare at the wall, trying to understand how I went from bleeding on the floor of a ball room to this. No, this isn't real. I shift slightly, testing the weight of his arm. His hand twitches but doesn’

  • ECHOES OF THE PAST    THE NIGHT I DIED

    The sound of champagne glasses clinking felt like a bad joke. I was standing in the middle of the ballroom, dressed in the red dress Evan had picked for me, surrounded by people who didn’t even know my name. All they cared about was him. Evan Grayson. Golden boy. Charming smile. Liar.He was standing a few feet away, holding a glass of whiskey and laughing like everything was perfect.His hand was resting on Emma Lancaster’s lower back like it had every right to be there.I stared at that hand. The same hand that used to hold me at night. The same hand that promised me forever.Laughter bubbled up in my throat, but it didn’t sound like me. It sounded cracked and broken.Ten years of my life. Ten years of being his shadow, his quiet supporter, the woman behind the scenes. I gave him my heart, my body, my time. He gave me lies. “Aria,” Lena hissed beside me. She grabbed my arm, squeezing it.“Don’t do anything stupid.” “Stupid?” I whispered. “I’ve been doing stupid for ten years.” He

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