Ghosts and Glass Screens

Nova

The café smelled like burnt espresso and lemon floor cleaner. The last customer had left half an hour ago, but I was still there wiping down counters that didn’t really need wiping. It was easier than going home. Easier than sitting alone in my apartment with my thoughts pressing down like bricks on my chest.

The lights buzzed softly overhead as I stacked the last of the chairs. The register clicked shut after I counted my tips for the night. Not terrible, not great. Enough to cover groceries and maybe a new sketchbook. I tossed the cleaning rag into the hamper behind the counter and sighed, rolling my shoulders to ease the ache.

Then came the knock.

It was soft at first. Just one knock. Then two more.

I froze.

Greg had already left. I was supposed to be alone.

I glanced at the clock above the espresso machine. Almost eleven. Nobody sane came knocking on coffee shop doors that late.

Slowly, I stepped toward the front, wiping my hands on my apron. The door was locked and the front lights were off, but I could make out a figure behind the glass. A woman. Tall. Hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Designer trench coat. Lipstick too sharp to be casual.

My stomach dropped.

Leah.

I hesitated, heart hammering in my chest, before finally unlocking the door.

She stepped in like she’d been invited.

“Well well,” she said, looking around the space with fake wonder. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you working behind a counter.”

I didn’t smile. “What do you want, Leah?”

She gave a light laugh and walked deeper inside, heels clicking against the tile floor. “Can’t a girl visit an old friend?”

“You stopped being a friend years ago,” I muttered.

“Oh come on,” she said, tossing her purse over her shoulder. “You ghosted everyone. One day you were Nova with the perfect family and the next you just… vanished.”

“Right,” I said, biting down on the words in my throat. “Because burying my mom and moving out of that house overnight was such a vacation.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I didn’t vanish,” I said, voice tighter now. “I just didn’t feel like pretending anymore. And you never reached out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t turn this into some guilt trip. I came by to say hi. Maybe see if you were still the same dramatic little thing.”

I took a step back. “You saw enough. You can leave now.”

Leah shrugged, turning toward the door. “Still touchy. Guess some things don’t change.”

She paused before stepping out and looked back at me.

“No wonder your dad replaced the whole family.”

The door clicked shut before I could say anything.

I stood there for a moment, frozen. My hands clenched at my sides. My throat thick with something I didn’t want to name.

I locked the door again, turned off the last light, and walked out the back into the night.

The ride home was quiet. I didn’t speed. I didn’t weave between cars. I just let the wind blow past my helmet and tried to let it carry the bitterness with it.

When I finally walked into my apartment, I didn’t even take off my boots. I dropped my bag by the door, pulled off my helmet, and stood there in the dark. The shadows wrapped around me, familiar and soft. I could still hear her voice in my head. Could still feel that sting in my chest.

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the small light over the sink. Reached for a glass of water. My hands were still trembling.

I leaned against the counter, staring at nothing.

Then I pulled out my phone.

A new tip.

SilentObserver

$2000.00

No message. Just the transfer.

My lips twitched.

Of course.

He never said much. Never demanded attention. Just appeared in silence, dropped his gold, and vanished again.

I opened the app and stared at my dashboard. All green. All thriving. I could pay half of what I owed next semester with that alone. Maybe even start saving for a proper camera. Something better than the one taped to the corner of my laptop.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Want a private show?

That’s what I’d asked him. That night after the stream. I never got a reply.

But he was still here.

Watching.

Still tipping.

Still… interested.

I didn’t feel small when I was VelvetMistress. I didn’t feel weak or overlooked. I didn’t have to explain who I was or why I had walls built so high.

I just was.

I walked into my room, peeled off my café uniform, and stood in front of the mirror. My hair was messy, my eyes tired, but I knew how to make it work. I always did.

I pulled open my drawer and took out the red silk lingerie. The one that fit like it had been stitched just for me. I put it on slowly, tightening each strap, smoothing the lace over my hips. Then I wrapped myself in my black satin robe and sat at the vanity to touch up my lips with a dark wine gloss. The mask came next. Velvet. Black. Soft on my face but sharp in effect.

I sat on the bed, adjusted the camera.

Logged in.

The screen loaded. The red light blinked.

I was live.

“Rough night,” I whispered, letting my voice draw out like smoke. “But that’s what you’re here for… right?”

I leaned in closer, my eyes fixed on the camera.

“To make me forget.”

The hearts began to roll in. Comments. Tippers. Everyone flooding in like moths to flame.

But I wasn’t looking at them.

I was looking for one name.

SilentObserver.

He was watching.

I smiled.

“This one’s not for them,” I whispered. “This one’s for you.”

And I began to move.

Deliberate. Slow. Like every part of me belonged to the screen.

The comments blurred.

The world blurred.

And for the first time all day

I felt in control again.