Chapter 7: The Game Begins

The gallery walls felt too close, the air too heavy. Nora's pulse pounded in her ears. The brush in her palm felt heavier than it should—like a piece of the past she thought she'd left behind.

Her first instinct was to throw it, to reject what it meant. But her grip tightened instead. This wasn't just an object. It was a message. A taunt. A warning. A game.

Emerald came to mind first.

Could it have been Emerald? Maybe she had packed them by mistake, unaware of what she had taken.

But that didn't make sense. This—this was something she had meant to leave behind. A piece of Oakmere that should have never made it here. So how was it?

Her grip on the brush tightened.

Then, another thought. The writer.

She had suspected him all along—hadn't she? At the café that night. On Primrose Hill this morning. And now, this. The initials meant nothing until she saw them and came to her realization.

Had it been him all along?

Her heart pounded as she reached for her phone. If he wanted to toy with her, she would play along.

"The place. This evening. No more guessing."

She hit send.

Nora didn't bother washing the brushes or looking at the canvas. Hunger didn't matter—not now. She had spent too much time lost in thought, and it was already late.

Tossing the brushes into her bag, she wiped her hands, grabbed her coat, and locked the gallery door—double-checking this time.

She walked briskly, her pulse steady, but her mind was anything but calm. He was playing games. Fine. She'd play back—but on her terms.

As she passed a roadside food stall, the scent of grilled meat and spices reached her, making her stomach twist in both hunger and tension. She wasn't used to street food, and under normal circumstances, she probably wouldn't have stopped. But tonight, she did. Maybe it was a way to ground herself, to force normalcy into a situation that was anything but. Or maybe she just needed something to hold on to before stepping into whatever was waiting for her at The Place.

She bought something small, taking a bite as she walked, barely tasting it. Her thoughts ran wild.

If the stranger was the writer, why go to such lengths? Why not just talk to her? What was the motive behind all of this?

And if it wasn't him…

Then who?

The possibility gnawed at her, lingering as she made her way through the streets. She avoided cabs, preferring to walk—always preferring to see the city, to absorb every detail around her. It made her feel in control.

But tonight, no matter how much she watched, no matter how much she tried to steady herself—she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her too.

Nora kept checking her phone as she walked, her fingers tightening around it each time the screen remained empty. No response. The longer the silence stretched, the more she wondered if he would even show up.

By the time Nora reached The Place, the café's warmth was a sharp contrast to the cool evening air. The hum of conversations, the scent of coffee—it should have been soothing, but it only fed the restless energy inside her.

Lily spotted her instantly, a slow smile forming. "four times in 48 hours," she mused. "I must be doing something right."

Nora let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she stepped further in. As always, Lily's effortless charm blurred the line between teasing and something more.

Nora didn't dwell on it. Instead, she walked over to her usual spot, setting down her bag before pulling out the half-eaten food she had bought earlier. She wasn't really hungry anymore, but it gave her something to do while she waited.

Lily appeared by her table just as she swallowed the last bite. "Your usual?" she asked.

Nora hesitated. Then, shaking her head, she said, "Something stronger tonight."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Rough day?"

Nora met her gaze but said nothing.

Lily didn't press. She simply nodded, disappearing behind the counter to prepare the order.

When she returned, she placed the cup in front of Nora, her fingers lingering on the rim just a second too long. "Something stronger tonight?" she mused, her French accent lacing the words with something almost teasing. "You surprise me, mon ange."

Nora exhaled a quiet laugh, wrapping her hands around the cup. "Guess I'm full of surprises."

Lily's lips curved as she leaned in just slightly. "I do like a mystery," she said, her voice light but suggestive. Then, with a small wink, she turned and walked away, leaving behind the faint scent of vanilla and coffee.

As Nora waited, she kept glancing toward the door, every chime of the bell making her heart jolt slightly. A part of her hated how anxious she felt—how much she wanted him to come. But with each passing minute, doubt started creeping in.

What if he wasn't coming?

What if she had miscalculated—misread the game?

She was just about to give up, to leave—when the bell rang again.

This time, it was him.

The stranger.

He stepped inside, his presence settling over the space with quiet certainty. Broad-shouldered and well-built, he carried himself with the ease of someone completely at home in his own skin. His attire was effortlessly distinct—well-fitted yet relaxed, a deliberate mix of refinement and carelessness that hinted at both confidence and unpredictability. His gaze found hers almost instantly, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips—calm, deliberate.

The same scent from Primrose Hill reached her again—cedarwood and something faintly smoky, familiar yet impossible to pin down. It lingered in the air between them, just like the unspoken tension.

Then there were his eyes—his hazel eyes, flecked with green and amber, the same ones she had seen that morning. Sharp, unreadable, holding a quiet amusement laced with something deeper. Curiosity? Amusement? Or something else entirely? Whatever it was, it held her attention, just as he always did.

Nora barely had time to gather her thoughts before he was standing in front of her table, his presence as effortless as the night air outside.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," he said, his voice smooth, laced with something unreadable.

She met his gaze, trying to find an answer in his expression, but all she saw was the same knowing amusement that had unsettled her on Primrose Hill.

"You're not going to ask why I called you here?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He pulled out the chair across from her, settling in as if this was just another casual night. "No need for guessing," he said, a smirk ghosting over his lips.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. "So, what is it? What did you drop this time that you need me to pick up? Or did you slip and fall again?"

His words made her tense, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she lifted her cup, taking a slow sip. "And if I did? Would you catch me?"

His gaze held hers, unwavering. "Every time."

A flicker of something passed through her chest, something unwanted, something warm. She pushed it aside.

"You seem very sure of yourself," she said, setting the cup down.

He shrugged. "I just know how to read people."

She exhaled lightly, watching him. "Then tell me… what exactly do you think you're reading?"

He studied her for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. Then, he smiled—slow, deliberate. "A girl who wants answers but doesn't know if she's ready for them."

Nora's fingers tightened around the cup, but she forced herself to relax. "And what makes you think I'm not ready?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Because if you were, you wouldn't be here trying to guess. You'd already know."

She let out a short breath, shaking her head. "You're enjoying this."

"I enjoy good conversation."

"You enjoy mind games."

He leaned back, watching her with quiet amusement. "Would you still be here if I didn't?"

She had no response for that.

A pause stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of music and the soft clinking of cups. Then, after a moment, he extended a hand across the table. "Let's make it fair, then."

She eyed him warily. "Fair?"

"A name for a name," he said. "No more guessing."

Nora hesitated, then reached out, shaking his hand briefly. "Nora."

His fingers lingered for just a second longer before he let go. "Sunny."

She studied him, as if the name itself would unlock something, but it gave away nothing. Just another mystery.

"Sunny," she repeated, testing it on her tongue.

He smirked. "You don't believe me."

"I'm still deciding."

He leaned back, arms crossed, watching her like he had all the time in the world. "Then keep playing."

And just like that, the game continued