Chapter 13
— Nolan's POV —
I didn't sleep much.
But somehow, I still pulled myself out of bed.
My limbs felt like they were dipped in concrete. Every movement took effort. The reflection in the mirror looked worse than yesterday — pale skin, sunken eyes, lips too dry to be alive.
It wasn't just exhaustion. It was dread.
The kind that sits in your chest like a weight, making every breath feel earned.
As I walked into the hospital, everything inside me screamed to turn around. My body moved on autopilot, but my mind was stuck in the night before — the club, the blood, the whisper.
"They'll know you're mine."
I couldn't see him. Not today.
I couldn't handle those eyes again — like they could tear through every defense I'd built.
I found Dr. Rayen near the break room. His expression softened the moment he saw me.
"You look terrible," he said.
"I feel worse," I replied, forcing a small smile.
"Is it about Varek?"
I hesitated. Then nodded. "Can you take his session today? Please."
His brows drew together. "After the last time… I mean, he only listens to you."
"I know," I said quickly. "But I'm not feeling well. Headache, chills. Might be a fever."
He paused, then finally nodded. "Alright. I'll go."
I watched him walk away — down the corridor, toward Room 13.
And I stayed behind.
I sat in my office, alone, eyes on the floor. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
How long can I avoid him like this?
The thought lingered — bitter, truthful.
But I pushed it aside. I wasn't ready.
Not yet.
---
— Varek's POV —
I waited.
Patient. Still. Smiling, even.
I thought he'd come today — surely. After everything… after what I saw. He'd want to check on me. He'd want to make sure I hadn't lost it again.
He had to.
That's what people do when they care, right?
But the door creaked open — and it wasn't him.
It was someone else.
A stranger in a white coat.
My fingers curled into the chair's armrest.
"Where's Nolan?"
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
The therapist looked nervous, fumbling the file in his hand. "Uh… Dr. Vale isn't feeling well. He asked me to—"
"Sick?"
That's the story he went with?
I stared at the man, hard. The room felt too bright. Too hollow.
He ran.
Again.
But it's okay. It just means he's thinking about me more now. That fear in his eyes yesterday — it was real. The scars on his wrist? He never wanted me to see them. But I did. I saw him.
That changes things.
That brings us closer.
I leaned back in the chair, teeth clenched behind a smile. "Fine. Do what you came for. And leave before I change my mind."
The man hesitated. His discomfort amused me.
But I wasn't angry at him.
I was angry at the silence Nolan left in his place.
So now you're avoiding me, Nolan?
Then you're just begging me to do something you can't ignore.
---
— Nolan's Office —
I returned to my office a few hours later. Head down. Breath held. Hoping the day would just pass without another ripple.
But the second I stepped in, I knew something was wrong.
The air felt heavier. The blinds had been drawn halfway — I never left them that way. The pens on my desk weren't aligned like I left them.
Then I saw it.
A small box of tablets — for fever and headache — placed neatly on my desk.
And beneath it, a folded note.
My chest tightened.
He'd been here.
With trembling fingers, I picked it up and opened it.
"Running away doesn't suit you.
Take your pills, calm down, and stop pretending.
You know I'm not going anywhere — not unless you ask me to do something you can't ignore."
The paper nearly slipped from my hands.
He'd crossed another line.
Not just watching. Not haunting.
He was inside my space now.
Inside my world.
I backed away from the desk, breath caught somewhere between a scream and a whisper.
The blinds fluttered slightly from the air vent. A soft sound — harmless, but it made me jump.
I looked around the room again. The corners. The vent. The door lock.
Nothing broken.
But everything felt touched.
Polluted.
And the worst part wasn't the intrusion.
It was the terrifying realization that echoed in my mind:
He never really left.