I can see you

Chapter 15

(EDWARD'S POV)

I woke up in a small, windowless room with my wrists bound by cold tight ropes, bolted to a concrete wall. They were just long enough to let me reach a cramped, sterile bathroom in the corner. My body ached from the awkward position, and a sharp burn ran along my shoulders from where the ropes had rubbed me raw. I sat strapped to a wooden chair, layers of belts and nylon restraints crisscrossed over my chest, legs, and arms. Four red dots blinked from the corners of the ceiling-security cameras. Watching me. Watching everything.

She was watching. I couldn't let her know I was aware, not really. Not yet. So I blinked slowly, letting my head loll slightly. Confused, groggy and weak. The perfect performance.

Because I remembered everything. Earlier that day on set, Rosy approached me with a too careful smile and a bottle of water. Her movements were rehearsed, her tone flat. Something about her had felt... calculated. And not in her usual, quiet, background way. It was something sharper and hungrier.

I had sensed it. So I ran a check. Before the shoot ended, I accessed the backdoor security feed from her apartment-an old system I'd bribed the security guard to install months ago. The footage showed her packing a bag. Inside were four water bottles, each with tiny marks on the bottom. Faint, precise. Lab marks. Doses.

I knew then what she was planning. Or at least, what she thought she was planning.
When she handed me that bottle, I played along. Tilted it just enough to wet the rim and let a few drops trickle down my chin. Then I let my body go slack, collapsing against her like some perfect little puppet and she caught me like a lover might.

She didn't know I was still awake. My pulse was slow and steady, my breathing trained to mimic sedation. I kept my eyes cracked open just enough to glimpse her reflection in the rearview mirror as she drove us away from the set. Her expression was soft. Euphoric. Like a bride on the way to her honeymoon.

And then something tugged in my chest-a memory. The little girl with ink-black hair and wide, starlit eyes. My brother's first love. The girl who'd vanished.

Riya.

My fingers twitched faintly at the memory, buried beneath my limp form. Was it really her? It couldn't be. It was Rosy, not Riya. And yet... the way she looked at me, it was the same as when I was seventeen and she was barely sixteen. That same eerie stillness in her eyes. That same quiet loneliness, seeping from her like a whisper only I could hear.

But something was different. Riya had been the kindest, most innocent soul I'd ever known. And Rosy... Rosy wasn't that. Still, a thought clawed its way to the surface. Riya hadn't disappeared. She'd just been hiding.

The car rolled over uneven dirt roads. I counted every curve, every turn. Tall trees swallowed the sky. We were heading somewhere remote. Isolated. A place no one would find.

Eventually, the scent of something bitter and chemical filled the car. Before I could brace myself, my vision blurred. Not from the drug. From the lack of oxygen. She'd added something airborne. Then everything truly went black. Now, I sat strapped down. My mind clear and my pulse steady. Waiting.

The door creaked open and there she was.

Rosy.

She entered in silence, barefoot on wood floors. Her white dress flowed like it belonged in a dream-clean, unwrinkled, almost bridal. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, black as ink, a few strands clinging to her cheek. She looked young. Ethereal. Too untouched for someone who'd just drugged and kidnapped a man.

She stepped close, crouched in front of me, and peeled the duct tape from my mouth in one swift motion. But when I winced from pain her touch was careful, almost apologetic.

"Oh no... I'm so sorry, honey," she whispered, her brow furrowed. "That must've hurt." Her fingers traced my cheek. "Your beautiful face... look what I've done."

Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I didn't move. Not at first. But the kiss wasn't triumphant. It wasn't gloating. Her lips trembled, unsure. Soft. Her body pressed close but not possessive. It wasn't about power. It was about longing.

And somehow-God help me-I kissed her back.

Just for a second. Just long enough to remember the girl in my memories. The one my brother had once sworn to protect. The one I had secretly watched from the shadows. The one I never really stopped thinking about. And now, here she was grown, twisted and broken in ways that mirrored mine.

She pulled back slowly, her breath brushing over my ear. "Say you're mine, Edward" she whispered, "and I'll always protect you."

I closed my eyes. She was his once. Maybe always. But she wasn't crying his name now. She was whispering mine and that broke something in me because I didn't know what scared me more-that she'd always loved him first, or that some sick part of me had always wanted her to choose me instead.

She sat down across from me, folding her hands in her lap like we were about to have tea. Her eyes never left mine. "I know you don't understand yet," she said softly, "but you will. I'm not the enemy. I'm the one who stayed. When everyone else forgot you, when you tried to push me away, I remembered you and I stayed beside you."

I stayed silent.

"Do you remember the alley?" she asked. "The one where we first met?"

Then she smiled faintly, a private sort of smile, like she was unwrapping something precious. "Do you remember the drawing?" she asked. "The one you gave me on graph paper. You said no one else saw it, but you did. That I looked like I was holding back a scream, even when I smiled."

My breath caught. I did draw that. Every jagged pencil line. The tension I saw in her shoulders. The sadness Roy always overlooked because he didn't know how to see it. But that sketch wasn't for Rosy. It was for Riya.

She leaned in slightly, her voice warm now, almost tender. "You told me I looked like I'd been drawn wrong on purpose. And no matter how much I try to pretend that I am perfect, I am not because I am human."

I remembered saying that. I remembered her flinching-Riya flinching-and then smiling, barely before Roy entered and she forgot about me again.

I watched her carefully, searching for some hint of doubt. There was none. She believed it. Every word. She leaned forward, fingers laced tightly in her lap. I felt cold all over. Because she was describing a memory that was real but it didn't belong to her. It belonged to someone else entirely. Someone who should be gone.

My mind twisted itself into knots, trying to reconcile the past with the woman in front of me. But it wasn't possible. Not yet. I had to stay calm. I had to wait. Observe and decode her. She rose and walked toward the camera in the corner. "He's awake now," she said. "Isn't he enchanting?"

The words weren't for me. They were for someone else. Someone watching. That's when it clicked. She wasn't acting alone. Someone else had fed that delusion. The twin theory. The vanishing girl. The hallucinations. This entire web wasn't hers. It was designed for her.

And someone else had been feeding her lies. Someone who knew enough to weaponize her past. Someone I might've known.

And that meant one thing: whoever was behind it knew who I was and they wanted me trapped. I shifted my wrist subtly against the rope testing the give. Fuck, it was tight.

She came back to me, cupped my face again, and whispered, "We'll have dinner later. I made your favorite. You'll see. You'll remember." Then she kissed my forehead and stepped out, the door locking behind her with a click.

Alone again, I stared into the blinking red eye of the nearest camera. You're watching. Whoever you are. So watch closely because I'm coming for you.

And I'm not the one who's trapped. Not yet.
but they didn't need to lock the door. The real cage was already in my head. It was her.