EVELYN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Evelyn's POV

I wasn’t sure how long I had been sitting by the window, staring at the garden below, my thoughts spiraling into nothingness. My hands fidgeted with the hem of my blanket, twisting and untwisting it as if the motion could keep my mind anchored.

The knock on my door startled me, sharp against the heavy silence.

“Evelyn,” my father’s voice called softly, uncharacteristically gentle.

I didn’t respond, didn’t move.

The door opened anyway, and his footsteps creaked against the wooden floor as he walked in. I kept my eyes on the window, pretending not to notice him.

He didn’t speak at first, just sat down in the chair by my desk. I felt his gaze on me, steady but not demanding. It made my skin crawl—not in fear, but in a way I couldn’t quite place.

“How are you feeling?” he asked finally. His tone was measured, careful, as if he were afraid of breaking something.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. It was the only answer I could give.

He sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Evelyn, I...” He trailed off, and I dared a glance at him. His face looked older than I remembered, his eyes tired. He ran a hand through his hair before standing and walking over to me.

I tensed as he reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before resting lightly on my head. He patted it awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, his voice low. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head—a gesture so foreign it sent a jolt through me. He hadn’t done that since I was a child.

I wanted to feel comforted, but instead, unease prickled at the edges of my mind. Why was he acting like this? What had happened to him—to us?

He straightened, gave me one last lingering look, and left the room. The click of the door shutting felt like an exhale, releasing a tension I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I turned back to the window, my fingers brushing against the spot on my head where his lips had been. It felt wrong somehow, like a memory of something I couldn’t quite recall.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Mariam brought me lunch, but I barely touched it. The house was quiet, too quiet, and every creak of the floorboards made me flinch.

As night fell, I found myself drawn to the mirror. I stared at my reflection, the dim light casting shadows across my face. I looked... different. Hollow. Like a ghost of myself.

I reached out, my fingers pressing against the glass as if trying to touch the person on the other side. My chest tightened, and I felt the familiar sting of tears.

A sudden sound shattered the silence—a sharp knock at the front door.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

Muffled voices drifted up the stairs, too low for me to make out the words. I crept to my door, cracking it open just enough to peer down the hallway.

Mariam was at the bottom of the staircase, her face pale as she glanced up at me.

“Evelyn,” she called softly, her voice trembling. “It’s... someone for you.”

Someone for me? The words sent a chill down my spine. I wrapped my blanket tighter around myself as I stepped into the hallway.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw him—Langston.

He stood in the doorway, his suit immaculate, his posture relaxed. But his eyes... they were cold, calculating, and they locked onto mine the moment I appeared.

“Evelyn,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t warm; it was a predator’s smile.

I clutched the banister, my nails digging into the wood as the air seemed to leave the room.