The same man

Chapter 3: The same man

Jane's eyes fluttered open, her mind still clouded with confusion. The dull hum of distant noises made her senses slowly begin to stir. She could hear a faint sound—perhaps someone moving around, the scrape of metal against wood, or the soft rustling of fabric. Her head throbbed as she tried to gather her bearings, but the room around her felt foreign, the smell unfamiliar.

She blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light, and then her body shifted instinctively, pushing her to sit up. She winced as pain shot through her muscles, but she ignored it, the sounds of movement pulling her forward.

With slow, careful steps, Jane rose from the soft couch she had been resting on, her legs weak and unsteady. She reached out, gripping the nearby wall for support, and started moving toward the source of the noise.

As she rounded the corner, her eyes landed on a figure standing in the kitchen. The man. The same man who had nearly hit her with his car, the same one who had brought her here—wherever here was. Her heart skipped a beat as recognition struck her.

He seemed to sense her presence before she could fully process her thoughts. He turned to face her, his expression neutral but with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Oh, you're awake again," he said, his voice calm but tinged with something unreadable.

Jane nodded her head slowly, unsure of what to say, unsure of why she felt this strange mix of gratitude and unease.

The man studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face as if trying to piece together something he couldn't quite understand. After a beat, he spoke again. "I made breakfast. Are you hungry?"

Though her stomach twisted with uncertainty, the word "yes" slipped out before she could think. She was starving, even though her mind told her to be cautious, to ask more questions. But her body was weary, and her hunger won out.

He nodded once, turning back toward the stove, and she hesitated, watching him carefully as he plated the food. Jane sat down at the small table, the chair creaking under her as she lowered herself into it. The silence between them was thick, heavy, and it stretched on for longer than it should have.

She picked at the food, not particularly hungry but still eating. His eyes never left her, studying her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. She couldn't read him. His face remained impassive, but there was something in his gaze—an unspoken curiosity, an attempt to unravel the mystery of who she was.

She avoided meeting his eyes directly, unsure of what he was thinking. The silence stretched longer, and she began to feel the weight of it pressing down on her chest. Was she supposed to speak? Was she supposed to thank him?

But as she chewed, she realized that the questions she had were far bigger than simple gratitude for a meal. How did she get here? Why had he brought her here? And more pressing—what did he want from her?

The man's gaze didn't waver. It was as though he was studying every small movement she made, trying to decode her every glance, every shift in her posture. Jane couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she ate. What was he thinking? And did she really want to know?

The silence hung in the air like a thick fog, each moment heavier than the last.