Page 10 of Laced in Longing

The realization floods me. I don’t want to go home to an empty apartment…I want to go to bed and dream of places I’ve never been. I want to feel that presence watching me, to experience the comfort of being seen by someone.

Since when did my dreams become more appealing than reality? Since when did I long for sleep not as an escape but as a destination?

My phone buzzes in my pocket—a welcome interruption from the spiraling thoughts. I tug it out to find Dr. Voss’ name on the screen, the second call from her today. Our session. Right. In all the chaos of the workday and this impromptu happy hour, I’d completely forgotten our rescheduled appointment.

“I have to take this,” I say, already standing, relief rushing through me at the perfect excuse. “It’s my doctor.”

Nadia looks concerned. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, just a follow-up call I forgot about.” I gather my jacket and bag, hoping I don’t appear too eager to escape. “Thanks for the drinks. I’ll see you all Monday.”

Before anyone can protest, I’m heading for the door, answering the call as I go.

“I know, I forgot,” I say by way of greeting, the cold outside a blessed reprieve against my overheated skin.

“Don’t let that become a pattern, Maven,” Dr. Voss replies, her voice disappointed.

“I was out with colleagues.” A weak defense. It’s strange in my mouth as I navigate toward the nearest metro entrance. This disaster of an experience might do some good, after all, and keep me from a scolding. “Didn’t notice the time.”

A pause on her end, though whether from surprise or suspicion, I can’t tell. “That’s a positive development. Making connections is important.”

My jaw tightens. “It was just drinks. Don’t read too much into it.”

The underground welcomes me with its artificially regulated temperature, the familiar scent of recycled air and distant food courts filling my lungs. The tension in my body begins to ease as I distance myself from the bar.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” Dr. Voss asks, cutting to the chase as she always does. “Sleep patterns stable? Taking your medication?” She must think I was having some kind of meltdown yesterday and lied.

I suppose I did.

I think about the dreams, about the faceless figure and the flowers that appear each morning. About how sleep has become something I look forward to rather than just another biological necessity.

“Like I said yesterday, fine.” A forced breath fills my lungs as I step onto an escalator that carries me deeper underground. “Everything’s the same.”

We talk for another ten minutes as I offer just enough detail about my week to satisfy her professional curiosity without revealing anything meaningful. Yes, the job is going well. No thoughts of self-harm. Yes, I’m eating regularly. No, no unusual symptoms or behaviors.

By the time we hang up, I’m nearly back to my apartment, a flicker of keenness buzzing my nerves. A current of expectation flutters beneath my skin, as if I’m not returning to an empty apartment but to a meeting that’s been waiting for me since I woke this morning.

The thought should disturb me more than it does. That’s another lie—nothing really disturbs me at this point.

As I unlock the door, there’s that feeling again—the one that strengthens each day. Like I’m being watched. Perceived. The hair along the back of my neck stands at attention as my eyes scan the space, of course finding nothing out of place.

After my routine, I slide beneath my cool sheets in just my underwear, tucking them under my chin. My eyelids grow heavy, thoughts slowing as exhaustion claims its due. I don’t fight it. I welcome it with hungry need.

I wonder where I’ll go tonight in my dreams. What beautiful, empty landscape will form itself around me? And will he be there, watching from behind his veil of white fabric?

The questions follow me down into darkness, into the space between waking and dreaming where reality shifts. As consciousness slips away, I think I smile.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAVEN

The Amalfi Coast unfolds around me—cascading white buildings clinging to cliff sides that plunge into a stunning, blue sea. Somewhere in the distance, bells toll, their presence carried on a breeze that tastes of salt and lemon. The air feels nice here. Warm.

I don’t care about the landscape, though. Not tonight.

Even the beautiful sunrise cannot steal my attention.

I should be taking it in. Memorizing every detail to revisit when I’m awake. Instead, my eyes scan the empty terrace, the vacant streets below, the abandoned beach in the distance.