Page 85 of The Ache That Stayed

My breath hitched and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

I looked away first. I knew that feeling. Too well.

“Those eyes look like they’re trying to say something.”

The voice slid behind me. Smooth. Familiar. Wrong.

My body locked. Every muscle pulling tight before my mind could catch up.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Some silences are like a symphony.” The voice continued.

“Don’t you think that, Pumpkin?”

The nickname hit me like a punch to the sternum.

Dark hallway. A door that wouldn’t open. The smell of that cologne.

It dragged the past up with it. Old venom. A truth I had buried so deep I’d convinced myself it no longer existed.

I forced myself to turn. Slowly. The warmth left my body so fast my teeth nearly clicked together. Blood rushed down from my face, making the room tilt.

He looked exactly the same. Older, maybe. Lines deeper. Hair thinner at the temples. But the eyes—the same. Watching me with calculation like I was still the girl he thought he owned.

Like he already knew what I was thinking.

“W-what are you doing here?” I stammered.

“Same as you. Purchasing some art.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the painting behind me, then back to me.

“Maybe I should take this one. Reminds me so much of you.”

He reached his hand out and rubbed my hair between his fingers. I could feel the rise of bile at the back of my throat.

I froze first—just like I had back then. Helpless, immobile, while every nerve inside me begged for escape. I was starting to get dizzy, vision dancing. My breath came out in short bursts, and it almost sounded like I was crying. I wanted to run, but my body locked in on itself. And the worst part, it wasn’t new.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice was screaming—

Move

Walk away

Say something—

But my legs—they stayed rooted. Like the floor had swallowed them whole. My fingers twitched once at my side. That was it. The rest of me remained locked.

He smiled. That same creepy, measured smile that I’d come to dread. Like everything was already decided.

The smile he’d reserved only for me.

“For someone whose life is so public,” he said lightly, “you’re surprisingly hard to catch.”

My fingers curled into my palms.

“W-what do you want?”