Obsession Rekindled

Callum stepped out of Bloom's Botanical under the soft drizzle that had turned into steady rain. It slapped gently against his face, cold and real, reminding him that he wasn't dreaming. But his heart told a different story. He stopped walking and glanced once more at the storefront. The scent of damp roses lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy freshness of rain-kissed pavement.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked further down the road, his mind spiraling. "Was that a ghost?" he whispered to himself. "No. That was Liora. I saw her eyes. I know those eyes. I would recognize them in a crowd of millions."

He walked, soaked, ignoring the few pedestrians staring at him. One man who had exited the shop behind him gave him a weird look when Callum tried explaining to Iris, no, Liora, that he knew her. 

The man must've thought he was insane. Embarrassed but too deep in thought to care, Callum continued on, head down, letting the rain baptize his confusion. He cared less about his car that broke down.

A modest hotel appeared across the street. He hadn't noticed it before. Its neon sign flickered slightly. Without hesitation, Callum crossed the road and walked in, dripping on the worn doormat. 

"Room for one, please," he said quietly.

The receptionist, a young woman with curly hair and tired eyes, barely looked up. "One night or more?"

He hesitated. "Start with one."

She handed him a key. Room 204.

Inside the room, everything was small. The bed creaked when he sat on it. The light flickered when he turned it on. It was nothing like the five-star luxury he was used to. And yet, tonight, it was perfect. He didn't want anyone to recognize him. He needed to disappear and think.

He pulled the curtain aside and looked out. Bloom's Botanical stood right across the street. He had the perfect view. A small thrill passed through him, a dangerous one. He let the curtain fall back and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, palms pressing into his eyes.

His phone buzzed.

Lola.

He didn't answer. He texted instead.

Callum: I'll call you later.

He tossed the phone aside and sank into the chair by the window, eyes fixed on the entrance of Bloom's Botanical, waiting for the moment Liora would step out, so he could follow her.

The ceiling was yellowed from time. The smell of old linen lingered in the air. But his mind was far, far away.

Fifteen years.

Fifteen years ago, Liora was shot. The night of their engagement party.

He remembered the blood. The scream. His own voice yelling for help. He remembered her hand slipping from his.

They said she died.

Then they said the body disappeared.

Then... nothing. No clues, no answers.

And now? Now she stood behind a counter arranging flowers. Her hair longer. Her smile softer. But those eyes... those damn eyes.

He sat up quickly. The memory from the morgue played back in his mind. The footage. That flicker of movement. 

His breath caught in his throat. He stood and pulled the curtain aside again. There she was. Inside the shop. 

Iris Bloom. That was the name she gave. A name that meant nothing. He'd searched it already, no trace, no record.

But she was Liora. She had to be.

His phone buzzed again. This time, a voicemail from Lola. He ignored it.

He sat still by the window, pulling the single wooden chair closer. The wind carried the distant sound of chimes. Somewhere, a dog barked.

He stared down at the shop.

And then the memories came.

Liora in his office, laughing, teasing him. Her red skirt rising as she straddled him, planting kisses on his ear.

As memories surfaced, they carried the heat of their intimacy. Before the engagement party, they had reveled in each other's closeness, seated together.

Perhaps the memory stirred because he was sitting now.

He recalled Liora's lips brushing his ear, her red skirt skimming her thighs. In his office at Callum Jay Enterprises, he had lifted that skirt, his hands caressing her breasts, his tongue tracing her skin.

Her soft moans echoed in his mind, vivid and unbidden. He couldn't pinpoint why the memory surged now, but it was sharp, Liora's hand stroking him, her whispered pleas for him to make love to her.

His fingers had explored her, her wetness pulling him in until she cried out, "Callum, please, enter me. Deeper." Her voice broke again, urgent, "Don't stop."

It wasn't just memory. It felt like he was living it again. Every sensation and sound.

He gasped and opened his eyes.

Night had fallen.

The room was dark now, save for the streetlights outside.

He stood abruptly and pulled back the curtain.

Bloom's Botanical was closed.

She was gone..He'd fallen asleep. He cursed aloud.

How could he doze off? How could he be so careless? He was supposed to watch. He was supposed to follow.

He paced the room, fingers in his hair.

"Dammit, Liora. Why are you hiding from me?"

He felt helpless. He was angry and desperate.

The phone buzzed again.

He didn't even look.

He grabbed his jacket, paced to the door, and stopped.

A thought hit him. If she was alive, why pretend to be someone else?

Who was she hiding from?

Who helped her disappear? And why now?

Why reappear now?

Callum turned, eyes narrowing.

He would not leave this town until he got answers.

Even if it meant tearing it all apart.

That night, Callum finally called Lola. His voice was low, almost distracted. He told her he was in a town nearby, said his car had broken down, and for once, he hadn't come with an escort.

"Why would you travel alone?" Lola asked, clearly unsettled.

"Never mind," he replied shortly.

He paused, then added, "Handle tomorrow's meeting at the Enterprise without me. I won't be coming back tonight."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I have a score to settle in the morning," Callum said, then ended the call before she could press further.