Twilight Zone

*** Dear Reader,

This chapter leans heavily on detailed descriptions and Liora's introspective thoughts, her PTSD offering crucial insights into her confusion and emotional state. These reflections are essential for grasping the nuances of her character and will enhance your understanding of the unfolding story in the upcoming chapters. Your patience with this narrative style will be rewarded as we delve deeper into Liora's journey.

Thank you for your understanding. Enjoy the read!****

****Present day****

Liora hung her purse on the hook. The bicycle ride had drained her energy, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing against her chest. It was already 6 pm. The golden dusk bled through the window blinds, painting lines across the cracked walls.

She fell onto the bed, arms splayed out, staring at the ceiling. No matter how still she remained, her heart wouldn't quiet down. It had been acting strangely since morning, hammering against her ribs, refusing to settle. The day played back in her mind in scattered fragments—Eve. Jackson. Nova. The names tangled together, making her dizzy.

Why in heaven did she meet him today? Why did her mouth betray her? Where had she found that stupid, reckless courage to speak? Her fingers curled into the sheets as she shut her eyes, but that only made it worse. The memory of her own voice haunted her. Liora groaned, rolling onto her side. What kind of reckless, humiliating confe.....? ....Statement was that?!'

She wanted to disappear, to find a hole deep enough to bury herself in for eternity.

She rationalised her actions, 'To get Nova back off, I had no choice but to threaten him. And it definitely worked....Right?′

She took another deep sigh. How is she ever going to face him? The most troubling factor is that she has to meet him in Twilight Zone in a few hours. And who asks someone to meet for dinner so late at night? He said he would treat her nicely tonight. "Nova!" She whispered his name under her breath, and the sound of it sent a strange shiver down her spine.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hating how easily his name carved itself into her thoughts. She hadn't left the classroom all day—not even during breaks. Sia had brought her a sandwich from the café. Liora had buried herself in her notebook, pretending to be busy, pretending to study...

She turned her head and looked at her phone, which lay beside her on the bed. She picked it up and scrolled through her missed calls. Every call to Caspian...voicemail. And every message...not delivered. And her throat tightened.

'Caspian... do you still love me?'The thought clawed at her heart. She tried not to let it fester, but it had been sitting there since yesterday, growing, eating away at her. Four months without a word from him left her questioning everything. If he knew who she was, why didn't he at least say goodbye before leaving? Was he... avoiding her? Liora squeezed her eyes shut, 'No. No, Caspian loves me. Right?' Then why did it feel something had changed between them? Her fingers gripped the phone tightly before she placed it back on the bed. She didn't want to think anymore.

What kind of conflict was she trapped in? Her heart had always belonged to Caspian—wrapped in her childhood memories and their long calls, filling her heart with happiness. But then, since when had Nova started filtering through her thoughts like a crack in heavy storm clouds, letting light slip through in streaks that made her squint? Her thoughts were a hurricane, and Caspian and Nova were at its centre.

Why Nova?

'What is happening to me?'

Her eyes drifted toward the window. The clouds were scattered across the blue canvas — not the soft, cotton-like clouds poets always wrote about. These were torn, jagged pieces, fractured and restless, drifting in and out of each other. They never stayed. Birds wheeled against the endless sky, free. Her thoughts sank deeper — into the confusion, into the ache.

How did Nova make her blush? Why did his touch make her shudder? Why did her skin feel electrified under his fingers? She spent a lot of time with Daran, too. But she had never felt anything like this.... Was it the way they kept colliding in a way that could make anyone blush? Liora questioned.

He was the first guy to slip past the habitual guard she had created around her to all the men. And his closeness strangely does not evoke anxiety or dreadness in her.

Thinking of the dream, her stomach fluttered, the sensation rising so fast it almost made her dizzy. Without thinking, her hand pressed flat against her belly. The same hand drifted up — the same fingers that had touched his lips only hours ago. She whispered softly, looking at her hand, "I touched his lips. I touched....He held me in his arms.....We were so close.....I bit him....He..... and I...."

A sudden thought struck her like lightning. She bolted upright, heart hammering against her ribcage. Nova wasn't just the first guy who broke into her safe space.....he was also the only guy apart from her Uncle Dane who hadn't triggered the panic if they came closer to her.

Even Daran, her closest friend, caused her to spiral into a state of cold, breathless fear with just a slight brush of his hand against hers. That's why Daran always kept a cautious distance from her. He is consistently careful when he is around her.

She had tested it once. She had extended her arm and asked Daran to place Asinglefinger against her skin. The moment he did, she had felt it—the burn, the suffocating panic. It had spread through her like wildfire, making her feel like she was drowning. Daran had pulled away instantly, his face filled with guilt, but she had forced a smile, pretending it didn't hurt as much as it did.

But Nova's touch… It hadn't burned her. It hadn't suffocated her. It hadn't sent her into a panic.

She swallowed hard, pressing her hand against her chest. How did I not realise this sooner?

Liora glanced at the time—7 pm. She forced herself to sit up, her body protesting with sluggishness. The bicycle ride earlier had drained her, and now her stomach was making its complaints known. There was no way she could wait until 11 pm for dinner.

Dragging herself to the shower, she turned on the water, letting the cold stream hit her skin first before gradually turning it warm. The steady flow slid down her back, washing away the day's fatigue but not the tangled mess inside her head.

After the shower, she threw a white hooded pullover paired with loose trousers. She made her way to the residence mess hall, keeping her hood up. She hadn't bothered with makeup, nor did she want anyone to notice her.

She quietly grabbed a light meal, thankful that Sia hadn't paid her any attention. Sia was sitting with other girls, engaged in conversation, while Liora slipped in and out unnoticed. She had already told Sia earlier that she wouldn't be eating dinner, so no questions were asked.

By the time she returned to her room, it was already 9 pm.

She checked her phone. Friday nights meant traffic. Yo warned her today in class when she asked about transport to go to Twilight Zone. If she wanted to reach her destination on time, she had to leave at least two hours in advance. And she was already late.

Opening Google Maps, she typed in 'Twilight Zone.' Her fingers stilled when she saw the results. It was a club. Liora blinked.

'A club?!'

She had never been to one. Unlike most people her age, she hadn't ventured out at night or attended any parties or social gatherings with friends, as she never had one apart from Daran. And Daran had never discussed clubs and parties with her much. He liked the way she was, and she did not need to know about useless things. So Daran never cared to tell her about nightlife until now. For Liora, parties only meant house gatherings, based on her limited understanding. Her knowledge of nightlife was practically non-existent. Clubs like golf clubs, horse riding clubs, and poker clubs; she had seen such clubs from far away in Glacier's estate, where rich people lived.

Unlike others, she wasn't digitally engaged. She preferred reading books and watching old-timer cartoons. And she had only ever used Instagram to check Caspian's photos and updates. That was the extent of her online presence.

It would take at least 40 minutes to reach, Twilight Zone—without traffic. If the roads were congested, it could take much longer. She booked a cab for 9:30 pm and hurried to change.

Tonight, she wasn't hiding behind makeup. She was going to meet Donovan as Liora. Whatever was happening between them, it needed to stop. And once he realised who she was, he would go back to ignoring her—just like he had done in high school.

That should fix everything!

Then, she could focus on Sven. On her revenge. On the real reason she came here. And maybe, after dealing with Sven, she could finally stop wondering why Nova's closeness had never triggered her panic. But only if Nova even spoke to her after tonight. Did she hope for that?

She slipped into a black, long-frilled skirt that flowed down to her ankles, the frills adding a delicate touch as they swayed with each step. She paired it with a white, long-sleeved blouse with a simple button-up front—the breathable fabric draped elegantly over her frame, modest yet refined. For shoes, she chose black ballerina flats—comfortable and practical.

Slinging her black purse over her shoulder, she took one last look in the mirror. She was ready.

The cab arrived on time at the Residence Exit, and she slid into the backseat.

Unlike others, she couldn't take public transport. Not because she was being picky—her PTSD wouldn't allow it. Crowded buses? Are people pressed too close together? No. It was absolutely not for Liora, at least not now.

By the time she arrived, it was 10:20. Strange, it did not take her long to get there. The town of Dawn was glowing under the city lights. Twilight Zone was located in one of the most elite areas of Valtham, Dawn. The moment she stepped out of the cab, her breath hitched. Everything here screamed wealth. The streets were flawless, lined with buildings that carried an air of old-world prestige. Dark-bricked structures with tall, arched windows stood proudly, illuminated by golden street lamps.

Liora did a slow 360-degree turn, taking in her surroundings. The streets here were nothing like what Yo had warned her about. No buzzing crowds, no rush of weekend-goers spilling onto sidewalks. The roads were eerily still, save for the occasional luxury car pulling up in front of elegant buildings.

One after another, the elite of society stepped out—men in tailored suits, women adorned in designer dresses, their presence exuding wealth and exclusivity. But it wasn't the sight of the rich and powerful that unsettled her. It was the two towering bouncers standing at the entrance of Twilight Zone.

They were massive and built like fortresses. Their presence alone screamed that only those who truly belonged were permitted past those doors. Liora's heartbeat thrummed against her ribs, but she forced herself to walk forward. She can't go back to her comfort room after spending 100 dollars on the cab. She must meet Nova today.

With a steadying breath, she reached into her purse and pulled out the visiting card Nova had given her. The thick, black card bore his initials in gold-embossed print, a design unmistakably powerful.

One of the bouncers took the card from her, his expression unchanging as he studied it.

She swallowed, gathering her courage. "I—I am here to—"

Before she could finish, the bouncer nodded. "You may enter."

That was it.

He handed the card back to her and stepped aside, granting her passage as if she had just presented a royal decree.

She stepped past the threshold, and the doors closed behind her, sealing her in a world entirely unfamiliar. The moment she entered, the air changed. Gone was the cool night breeze. In its place was a dense atmosphere—a mixture of velvet darkness, flickering blue lights, and a slow, hypnotic rhythm that pulsed through the room like a heartbeat.

Liora took a hesitant step forward, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit space.

The colourful lights cased elongated silhouettes across the polished, empty black marble. The music was low, seductive, more of a pulse than a melody.

It felt like a different realm entirely. She glanced around, taking cautious steps. 'Why was it so dark in here?' She murmured the thought under her breath, barely realising she had spoken aloud.

A deep voice answered her. "You're right on time."

Liora jolted, her hand flying to her chest. 'I am? I thought I was early.' She did not say it out loud.

The club manager stood before her, dressed in a black suit, his presence as polished as the interior of the establishment. She let out a slow breath, trying to calm her nerves.

He gestured toward the stairs. "Follow me."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

"To the special room," he replied smoothly. "Everything has been arranged."

'Special room?' Liora's pulse quickened, but she forced herself to nod.

Without another word, she followed him.

They climbed three flights of stairs, the sounds of the main club fading with each step. At the top, there was a small overlook that gave a direct view of the dance floor below.

But it was the door at the end of the corridor that caught her attention. Liora's footsteps slowed when the manager stopped before a single door.

It stood out against the dark walls—a sleek, obsidian door with no sign, no marking.

She cast the manager a wary glance. She did not understand what dinner place this was. It's probably rich kids' weird taste for a person like her to understand.

He pushed the door open, stepping aside to let her in. His lips curled into a subtle, unreadable smile.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

Her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse as she stepped inside, the soft glow of warm red lights illuminating the space.

The luxurious wooden flooring stretched across the spacious interior, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the centrepiece of the room.

A small stage. Right in the middle. With a long, silver pole stretching from floor to ceiling.

Expensive, black leather couches are arranged in a semi-circle, each placed with precision to be able to look at the centre stage.