Daniel had been sitting at his desk since morning, fingers moving mechanically across the keyboard, but by afternoon his focus had completely dissolved. He stared at the computer screen, his mind wandering back to earlier that day. The hotel room. The shared wounds. The way Cassandra had looked at him like she owned him.
His fingers moved across the keys, but his thoughts were elsewhere. How could Noah not see the scar? How could something be so real to him but invisible to everyone else?
"Yeah, sup," came a familiar voice behind him.
Daniel didn't turn around. "Hey Noah."
"You wanna grab lunch?" Noah asked, moving to stand beside Daniel's chair. "There's this new sandwich place down the street."
"I'm good," Daniel said, still typing. "Still working on these files."
Noah frowned. He knew Daniel better than anyone in this office, knew that his friend never turned down food, especially free food. Work was important to Daniel, sure, but lunch was sacred.
"What are you working on?" Noah asked, leaning over to look at Daniel's screen.
He stopped mid-sentence. The computer was completely black. Not even the login screen was showing.
"Dude," Noah said slowly. "You're not typing anything. Your computer is off."
Daniel's fingers froze over the keyboard. He looked at the screen, then at Noah, then back at the screen.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Noah asked, genuine concern creeping into his voice.
"I guess," Daniel replied, though to him the screen had been on. 'What the hell is happening to me?'
Noah studied his friend's face. Daniel had been through hell lately with the divorce, the humiliation, the financial stress. Maybe he needed to cut him some slack.
"Come on," Noah said, his voice gentler now. "Lunch is on me."
Daniel pushed back from his desk, frustration building in his chest. "How am I supposed to eat food after what I told you this morning? You didn't believe me. You think I'm losing it."
Noah settled into the chair next to Daniel's desk, his expression thoughtful. "Look, man, what you told me... it's just hard to believe, you know? But we can talk about it more later if you want. I'm here for you."
"You know what," Noah said, settling into the chair next to Daniel's desk. "I got some good news for you. Richard and Sarah are on a week-long vacation. At least he won't be able to disturb you."
"Good for them," Daniel said flatly, like he genuinely didn't care.
Noah stared at him. "You're not worried at all? By now you'd usually be upset when you hear Sarah's name."
"I don't care anymore," Daniel said, meeting Noah's eyes. "I'm dead serious."
Something had changed in Daniel, Noah could see it now. Usually, any mention of his ex-wife would send Daniel into either a rage or a depression. But today, he seemed... detached. Like none of it mattered anymore.
"OK," Noah said quietly. "Then this week, I'll make sure your workload is reduced. Help you manage the stress."
"Thanks man, I appreciate it."
Noah smiled. "So can we get lunch now?"
Daniel looked at his friend and sighed. "Fine, I'll go. You're hard to ignore." He paused, then added with a slight grin, "Though sometimes you act like a junior colleague instead of my senior. What will people think if they see you favoring me?"
Noah laughed. "Let them think what they want."
As they walked toward the elevator, Noah asked, "Are you sleeping at a hotel or do you want to crash at my place?"
"No thanks, man. I'll go back to the hotel. Some of my clothes are there anyway."
Noah looked at him as they waited for the elevator. "You'll get through this, you know."
"Yeah," Daniel said, though his voice lacked conviction. "I hope so."
They had lunch at the new sandwich place down the street, where Noah did most of the talking while Daniel picked at his food. Noah had a way of filling comfortable silences with stories about office gossip, weekend plans, anything that might distract Daniel from whatever was eating at him. Gradually, Daniel found himself relaxing, even laughing at a few of Noah's impressions of their more eccentric coworkers. It was remarkable how Noah always seemed to know exactly what to say during Daniel's hardest times, how he could ease the tension without making it obvious that's what he was doing.
The rest of the workday passed in a blur. Daniel managed to actually get his computer working and uploaded the files Noah had left for him. He answered emails, ran diagnostics on a few servers, and tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. But the C-shaped scar on his palm kept drawing his attention, and every reflection he caught in windows or monitors showed nothing there.
When evening came and people started packing up to leave, Noah appeared at Daniel's desk again.
"You need a ride?"
"I'm good," Daniel said, shutting down his computer properly this time.
"Just... don't drink tonight, OK?" Noah said, genuine concern in his voice.
Daniel nodded, though he wasn't sure if it was a promise he could keep.
After Noah left, Daniel didn't immediately head for the exit. Instead, he found himself sitting in one of the chairs by the large windows that faced the street. The office was mostly empty now, just a few security guards and the cleaning crew. The fluorescent lights had been dimmed to half-power, casting long shadows across the cubicles.
He stared out at the darkening sky, watching the first stars appear between the city lights. The events of the last twenty-four hours felt surreal, like something that had happened to someone else. But the scar on his palm was real. The memory of Cassandra's touch was real. And somehow, impossibly, she had a power over people that defied explanation.
Daniel closed his eyes and tried to make sense of it all. What was happening to him? Was he losing his mind, or was something genuinely supernatural at work? The rational part of his brain insisted on the former, but the evidence...
When he opened them again, there was a face inches from his own.
Daniel jumped up so fast he nearly knocked over the chair, his heart pounding.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Hi darling," Cassandra said with that same calm smile. "How was work?"
"You scared the shit out of me," Daniel said, pressing a hand to his chest. As his breathing slowed, a question formed in his mind. "How did you get in here? Building security, key cards, cameras..."
She tilted her head slightly, as if the question amused her. "I walked through the front lobby, took the elevator up, and asked the cleaning lady which desk was yours. People are so helpful when you ask nicely." Her smile widened just a fraction. "She even offered to show me the way."
Daniel stared at her. It sounded plausible enough, but something about the way she said it, the certainty in her voice, suggested there was more to it. As if the cleaning lady hadn't just been helpful – she'd been compelled to help.
'But how the hell does she know where my work is ?' Daniel thought, but said nothing aloud.
Her voice was as calm and controlled as it had been that morning, like nothing unusual had happened between them.
Daniel looked at her, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack his face. "Work was fine."
She was still wearing all black – a different dress than this morning, but the same color scheme. Simple, elegant, expensive-looking.
Cassandra gestured toward him with one hand. "Come on. I have something to show you."
Daniel stared at her face, searching for any sign of malice or deception. All he could see was that same patient smile, the same gentle expression that had been so unsettling that morning. But now there was something else – an expectancy, as if his compliance wasn't really a question.
After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand.
They walked together toward the elevator, Daniel glancing at her sideways every few steps. She seemed completely at ease, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand was warm in his, and despite everything, he found himself reluctant to let go.
Outside the building, a taxi was waiting at the curb. They got in without Cassandra giving any instructions to the driver, and the car immediately pulled away from the curb. Their hands remained intertwined on the seat between them.
Daniel watched the familiar streets roll by, noting how the driver seemed to know exactly where to go without being told. Another small impossibility to add to his growing list. He glanced at the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror – they were distant, unfocused, like someone following instructions they'd received in a dream.
Cassandra caught him staring and turned to meet his eyes directly. Daniel immediately looked away.
"What is it?" she asked softly. "I can feel your heartbeat rising."
"I'm just curious where we're going," Daniel said.
Cassandra reached over with her free hand and gently turned his face toward her, her fingers on his jaw.
"Don't you trust me?" she asked.
The question hung in the air between them. Daniel found himself studying her face – the perfect symmetry of her features, the way her eyes seemed to hold depths he couldn't fathom. How was he supposed to trust someone he'd met at a bar less than twenty-four hours ago? Someone who somehow knew exactly what to say to taxi drivers, security guards, cleaning ladies? Someone who claimed they were married because of some ritual he barely remembered?
But looking into her eyes, feeling the warmth of her touch, he found his resistance crumbling.
"I do, I guess," he said, the words coming out softer than he'd intended.
"It's just a surprise, darling," she said, then leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.
Daniel sat frozen, shocked by the sudden intimacy. Her lips were warm, and for a moment, the world outside the taxi ceased to exist.
The rest of the thirty-minute drive passed in comfortable silence. Daniel stared out his window while Cassandra stared out hers, their hands still clasped together, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, the taxi stopped in front of a modest apartment building on a quiet residential street. They got out, still holding hands, and Daniel started to reach for his wallet with his free hand, but the driver was already pulling away.
"Hey, he didn't collect payment," Daniel called after the disappearing taillights, a chill of unease running down his spine.
"Don't worry about it," Cassandra said, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the building in front of them.
Daniel watched the taxi disappear around the corner, his mind reeling. First the building access, now a taxi driver who expected no payment and knew where to go without being told. Each small impossibility was building into something larger, something that made his rational mind want to shut down completely.
Daniel followed her gaze. It was a nice enough place – not fancy, but well-maintained. Three stories, brick facade, small front garden with carefully tended flower beds.
Cassandra turned to him with that same gentle smile.
"This is our house," she said.
"Our what?"
"Our house," she repeated, the smile never wavering. "Our home."
Daniel felt something cold settle in his stomach. The building looked real enough, solid and ordinary. But after everything else – the taxi, the building access, the way people seemed to bend to her will – he couldn't shake the feeling that nothing about this was normal.
"What the fuck have I gotten myself into?"