Nora's POV
By the time I made it back to my apartment, the city felt louder than usual. Traffic hummed, a siren wailed two streets over, voices drifted up from the café on the corner. I told myself that's why my nerves were frayed, why I kept glancing over my shoulder.
But the truth was, it wasn't the city. It was him.
Luc.
His presence clung to me like a chill. The polite smile, the easy tone—perfectly harmless on the surface. And yet something about the way his gaze lingered made me feel more exposed than safe.
I shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, closing my eyes. You're imagining it. He was just being friendly.
Except my instincts told me otherwise.
I kicked off my shoes and padded into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. Tea, I decided. Tea would help. Something normal, something grounding.
By the time Ella arrived, I had curled up on the couch with my mug, hair still damp from the shower I'd forced myself into. She breezed in with her usual flair—coat half-slipping off one shoulder, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Alright," she said, dropping onto the couch beside me. "Spill."
I blinked. "Spill what?"
"Don't even try." She pointed at me. "You've got that look. The one where your brain is chewing itself to pieces. What happened?"
I hesitated, fingers tightening around my mug. Ella could read me too well.
"There was this man," I said finally. "Adrien's cousin, apparently. He—ran into me."
Ella's brows shot up. "Cousin? I didn't even know Adrien had one."
"Neither did I," I admitted. "Luc. He… said he wanted to get to know me. Because I'm 'important' to Adrien."
Ella leaned back, lips pressing together. "And how did you feel about that?"
"That's the problem," I muttered. "I don't know. Something about him felt… off. Like he was being kind, but there was a script underneath it."
"Mm-hmm." Ella crossed her legs, fixing me with a look. "Listen to your gut, babe. If it feels off, it's off. Always."
I nodded, though unease still twisted in my stomach.
Ella softened. "You want my two cents? Guys like that—they test the waters. Smile, flatter, act harmless. But if your instincts are already ringing, don't brush it off. Protect yourself."
Her certainty was grounding, a sharp contrast to my muddled thoughts.
I exhaled. "Thanks."
She nudged me with her shoulder. "Also, maybe, just maybe, you should tell Adrien about this."
My chest tightened. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because…" I trailed off. How could I explain? Adrien had been distant lately, drawn into his world of press storms and family obligations. I didn't want to add another complication. And maybe, deep down, I was afraid of what it would mean—telling him about Luc, admitting that Adrien mattered enough that his cousin's attention unsettled me.
Ella studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
We let the conversation drift after that. She told me about work, about the barista who kept spelling her name wrong, about a disastrous Tinder date that involved a man who brought his mother to dinner. I laughed, grateful for the distraction.
It felt like the sound was someone else's, rusty from disuse, but it loosened something in me all the same.
But later, when she left, the quiet pressed in again.
I found myself staring at my phone, thumb hovering over Adrien's name in my contacts. I typed a message—Did you know your cousin came to see me?—then deleted it. Tried again—I need to talk to you—then erased that too.
Finally, I set the phone facedown and pushed it away. He didn't need this right now. He had enough to deal with.
The next day, Luc's presence returned—not in person, but in a message.
It was nice running into you yesterday. Hope the city isn't treating you too harshly. – L
Polite. Almost bland. And yet something about it unsettled me more than if he'd been overt. He shouldn't have had my number. I hadn't given it to him.
My first instinct was to ignore it. But then a part of me whispered, If you ignore him, won't that seem rude?
I hated that the thought even crossed my mind.
In the end, I sent a brief reply: Thanks. I'm fine.
Within minutes, he answered: Good. I'd like to see you again. Just to talk. I think we could be good friends.
I stared at the screen, heart thudding.
Why me? Why this sudden interest?
I typed, I don't think that's a good idea, but didn't send it. Instead, I closed the app, shoved the phone in a drawer, and went for a walk to clear my head.
The streets bustled with life—cyclists weaving between cars, tourists with cameras, shop windows glowing with late summer displays. It should have felt grounding, but it didn't. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of eyes lingering just beyond sight.
When I returned, a single thought burned through me: I should tell Adrien.
But then I remembered the headlines, the way his world seemed constantly on fire. His mother's voice, Sofia's calculated poise, the endless speculation. I was already a complication he didn't need.
So instead, I brewed more tea, curled back onto the couch, and tried to pretend my world wasn't shifting beneath me.
But deep down, I knew pretending wouldn't last.
Luc wasn't going to vanish.
And Adrien… Adrien was becoming the one person I wanted near, even as he felt impossibly far.