Once again, the same dream visited her... but this time, with different details.
Charlotte was standing, staring at her reflection in the mirror. A woman with familiar features, yet not quite her. The room was narrow, suffocating, as though the walls with doors were closing in, tightening around her.
The old weight settled back onto her shoulders, as if it had never left. And yet, she didn't blink. She didn't look away from that strange face in the mirror.
Silence filled everything. All she had to do was stare... and wait.
But suddenly, a slow, gloomy creak echoed from the surrounding doors.
Her eyes widened, and her heart pounded violently.
This was new.
The doors had never opened before.
Amid her confusion, she noticed a subtle movement... a slight tilt of the head from her reflection.
But it wasn't her doing… it wasn't her.
Her breath became ragged, and a strange chill crept to her limbs. Still, she held her ground.
Then, with terrifying slowness, the doors swung fully open.
And footsteps followed.
Steady, synchronized footsteps, approaching without hesitation. With each step, her lips trembled, her hands stiffening more and more.
Though the sound surrounded her from every direction, nothing appeared in the mirror. No reflection. No shadow.
Charlotte froze, her gaze locked on the woman with the tilted head the one who wasn't her. She desperately wanted to turn around, to see who was coming… but something deeper than fear paralyzed her completely.
It was as if gravity itself was pulling her down, anchoring her in place.
Hot tears filled her eyes, refusing to fall.
The footsteps drew closer.
She felt a cold aura almost brush against her.
Then...
Before anything touched her, she shut her eyes… and woke up.
Charlotte woke up gasping, her eyes wide, sweat dampening her forehead. She lay on her back, her breath shallow, her skin pale as if the nightmare still lingered. Sunlight slipped in through the gaps in the curtains, casting a soft glow on her face, but it brought no comfort.
She raised her hand to shield her eyes, trying to steady herself.
As she sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the doorbell rang.
She looked around and only then realized Leonid wasn't home.
She squinted, then recalled what he told her the night before that he'd be leaving early.
She sighed and wiped her sweaty forehead with her hand. Despite the air conditioning, her body was burning, as though the dream had drained her completely.
The doorbell rang again.
Charlotte rose cautiously, walking with hesitant steps toward the door.
She turned the knob gently, and as the door opened, sunlight burst in, blinding her for a moment.
She quickly shut her eyes, groaning softly as she rubbed them, until a familiar voice interrupted her:
"Finally, you answered, Miss Charlotte…"
She opened her eyes quickly but couldn't see, so she raised her hand to shield herself from the bright light.
Before Charlotte could speak, she heard him say gently:
"Well, that's all right… My goodness, I forgot to say hello."
Her vision began to return, and her eyes truly widened.
Maxime stood before her, lifting his hat with his left hand, his face wrinkled with a smile that suited his age.
He spoke calmly:
"Good morning, Miss Charlotte."
Silence lingered between them for a moment, before Charlotte realized she hadn't returned the greeting.
"Oh… Uncle Maxime… G— good morning."
She stammered a little, but Maxime didn't seem bothered.
"What a lovely morning,"
he said, looking up at the sky behind him before turning back to her.
"I didn't mean to disturb your sleep, but… I had to warn you."
"Hmm…"
Charlotte covered her face with her hand, hiding her eyes in a mix of shyness and tension.
Maxime continued, his voice quieter:
"As you know… the terms of the lease. You're already… nearing a violation of one of them."
"One of them?"
He nodded gently and said:
"Yes… I've been told you're dating Mr. Leonid. But remember, this floor is a free zone. No couples allowed. If you two are truly serious about your relationship, then please… leave before a situation arises that forces you to pay a penalty."
"But—"
He cut her off with the same unnerving calm:
"No 'but,' please, Miss Charlotte… Just honor the terms of your lease."
"…All right."
Charlotte lowered her head in resignation.
Maxime looked at her for a long moment. Something in his gaze was unsettling. Then he said in a soft tone:
"I knocked on Mr. Leonid's door, but he didn't answer. Is he… sleeping here?"
Charlotte shook her head slightly, then murmured:
"He left last night. Said he had a night shift."
"Hmm… I see."
Maxime narrowed his eyes for a moment, then suddenly closed them and turned around.
But before walking away, he stopped and said in a low voice without turning back:
"By the way, Miss Charlotte… strange things have been happening lately. It's best to ask who's at the door before opening it like that."
"Hmm…"
"Well then, you may go back to sleep, Miss Charlotte."
He gave his usual smile, then turned and walked calmly toward the elevator.
Charlotte stood watching his back until he disappeared from view. Only then did she exhale and close the door behind her.
She leaned against it for a few seconds, as if to catch her breath, then pushed herself off and headed to the bathroom.
She needed water something to wake her up completely.
After a loud and exhausting night filled with tension, Leonid parked his car in the garage. He stepped out slowly, his hands instinctively reacting to the cold air.
The morning wasn't much different from the night before the sun was bright but cold, and the dry air clearly signaled the coming of winter.
Charlotte might find it difficult to attend Daniel's girlfriend's birthday party, but she would go anyway. It wasn't up for discussion.
He shut the car door and walked toward the building, his steps steady and measured. He stopped in front of the elevator, which was already descending.
When the doors opened, his eyes met Daniel's.
Daniel's face immediately darkened; he had been hoping, since the night before, not to see Leonid again.
"Good morning…"
Daniel said coldly, not stopping as he tried to walk out quickly.
But Leonid grabbed him by the collar of his loose jacket, his grip firm and cold.
"What a coincidence."
He said it with a mocking smile, then pulled Daniel toward him with one hand, forcing him to turn.
"You know? I need your help."
Daniel froze in place, looking confused, then scowled deeply.
"What are you saying?! And stop grabbing my collar every time, it's annoying!"
Leonid raised his eyebrows, as if the whole thing was exaggerated, then sighed slowly.
"Oh God, so much whining."
He let go of Daniel's collar lazily, as if to show he didn't really care, then folded his arms casually over his chest.
Daniel, in a defensive reflex, quickly straightened his jacket and mimicked Leonid by folding his arms too, stubbornly.
"Believe me, every time I start to accept your relationship with Charlotte… I find out I was wrong."
A sarcastic look crossed Leonid's face, but he didn't respond directly. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if mockingly contemplating Daniel's words.
"Really? You sound narrow-minded. Can't you see I'm trying to get along with you?"
Daniel gave a humorless laugh and looked away.
"And why would you? I'm not interested in bonding with an old man."
Leonid's expression shifted for a moment a flicker of irritation and provocation passed through his eyes.
"My hair may be white, but I'm 28 years old."
Daniel shrugged indifferently, but a mischievous grin appeared on his face.
"What's the difference? One year doesn't matter."
Leonid frowned, clearly offended.
"It's two years, you idiot."
Daniel replied instantly, a wicked smile creeping across his face:
"No difference at all. You're old… and that's the truth."
Although Leonid usually appeared cold, he was sensitive about his looks and age. Daniel's constant teasing triggered only one emotion in him: anger.
"Come with me. I've got a job for you."
He grabbed Daniel's collar again and yanked him without warning.
Leonid left the building, dragging Daniel behind him, while the latter squirmed and whispered pleas for help.
On their way, they passed someone Leonid didn't expect to see.
It was Devin. But he paid him no attention not now.
He stood at the entrance, watching them with a neutral expression. Apathetic on the surface, but his green eyes revealed everything.
He headed toward the elevator quietly, the bouquet of flowers pressed between his arms, giving off a sweet, lingering scent.
He pressed the button for the eighth floor, eager to see Charlotte.
After yesterday's fight, he had to check on her cheek. Not out of pity… but something more complicated.
The idea that she was in pain because of someone other than him sparked a strange jealousy within him.
The image of her swollen cheek, or the marks of that blonde woman's fingers, made him chuckle briefly then frown.
He wondered how pathetic it was that Charlotte had been struck by someone who didn't understand her body like he did.
When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Devin stepped out slowly, savoring the moment before pressing her doorbell.
And when he finally did, something inside him shivered. It was a simple touch… but enough to awaken that familiar thrill.
He would see her, talk to her, touch her… and, perhaps most importantly, break her.
He lowered his lashes, staring at the doorknob as it turned slowly… then opened.
He hadn't expected it to open so quickly.
He froze for a moment, then a barely concealed, dark smile spread across his face.
Charlotte opened the door quickly, thinking it was Leonid. She hadn't expected to find Devin instead.
She stared at him for one long second… a second that felt like a century, paralyzing her in place.
Devin's smile widened in response. He relished this kind of reception the fear laced with sparks of hatred and a desperate urge to run.
The beautiful thing about Charlotte was that she couldn't lie with her face. Everything showed plain and vulnerable. And that made playing with her all the more enjoyable.
"Charlotte…"
He whispered her name in a soft tone that didn't match his intentions, his eyes scanning her face particularly the cheek that had been slapped. It looked better, but it must still hurt.
Then, deliberately slow, his gaze slid down to her neck. He wanted a detailed look beneath her pajamas.
But what he saw made him pause.
A faint mark barely visible under the collar but to someone who knew her body as well as he did, it was obvious.
Subtle traces… perhaps the imprint of lips or teeth.
Not his doing, of course. But… perhaps the work of that white-haired man.
Devin's smile faltered for a moment, then returned slower this time. But something in his eyes changed; they became sharper, darker, as if something inside him had shifted.
He reached out slowly, fingers stiff, as if he were about to close them around her neck tight, slow, until it broke, until his rage was satisfied.
Charlotte was breathing heavily, her eyes widening in silence. The space between his hand and her neck was nothing… just one touch away from disaster.
But Devin suddenly stopped.
Without a word, he pulled his hand back, then tossed the bouquet of flowers in her face with complete indifference, not caring if it hurt her. Then he turned and walked back toward his apartment with cold, detached steps as if nothing had happened.