Helena didn't return to the park for three days.
She changed her lunch schedule, started eating in the office break room, surrounded by the hum of the old refrigerator and the idle chatter of colleagues she barely knew. She pretended everything was normal. She pretended she didn't miss him.
But she did.
And the worst part was the constant feeling of being watched. On the street, at the market, even inside her house. As if those golden eyes followed her even when he wasn't around.
On the third day, Marina appeared in her cubicle with two cups of coffee.
"You're acting strange," she said, pushing a cup toward Helena. "Stranger than usual, I mean."
"I'm fine."
"You ate instant noodles for breakfast. I saw you taking them out of the microwave."
Helena sighed.
"There wasn't anything else at home."
"Hel..." Marina pulled up a chair and sat down. "What's going on? Is it still André?"
— No. — And it was true. André seemed like part of another life now, distant and unimportant. — It's... complicated.
— Did you meet anyone?
The question should have been simple, but Helena didn't know how to answer. Did she meet someone? Or was she found?
Before she could say anything, her phone vibrated on the table. Message from an unknown number.
"You're wearing the necklace your grandmother gave you. The one with the silver pendant."
Helena's blood ran cold.
Instinctively, her hand went to her neck, touching the thin necklace that was hidden under her blouse. It wasn't visible. It was completely covered.
— Are you okay? — Marina touched her arm. — You turned white.
Helena looked around the office, her heart racing. Windows. He could be in any building across the street. Or closer. Much closer.
— I need to get out for a bit — she murmured, already getting up.
— Hel, what...?
But she was already leaving, her legs shaky, her breathing difficult. She went down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, pushed open the emergency exit door, and found herself in the side alley of the building.
And there he was.
Leaning against the brick wall, hands in his pockets, as if waiting for her. As if he knew exactly when she was coming.
"You can't do this," Helena said, her voice trembling between anger and something dangerously close to relief.
"Do what?"
"This! Watch me like this! Know things you shouldn't know!"
Liam stepped away from the wall and took a step toward her. Helena recoiled.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Should I be?"
"I would never hurt you."
"But you follow me. You watch me. You invade my privacy as if you... as if you have the right!"
"I didn't say you had the right." His voice was calm, controlled. "But I'm not going to lie and say I'll stop either."
Helena laughed, a strangled sound.
"You're crazy." "Do you realize this?"
"Maybe." He took another step. "But you feel it too, don't you? This... connection."
"There's no connection at all! There's a strange guy who's stalking me and knows things he shouldn't!"
"Like the fact that you can't sleep without leaving the TV on?" Liam tilted his head. "How do you always turn it off on the same channel, that documentary one that airs in the middle of the night?"
The air left her lungs.
"How can you have insomnia for years but never told anyone, not even André?" He continued, his voice low, almost gentle. "How can you wake up at three in the morning, every night, and stare at the ceiling for hours?"
"Stop." Her voice was a whisper now.
"How can you cry in the shower because it's the only place where no one can hear you?"
"STOP!"
The tears came suddenly, hot and angry. Helena covered her face with her hands, her whole body trembling.
"How do you know this?" She sobbed. — How can you know these things?
Silence. And then she felt his hands on her shoulders, firm but gentle. Helena should pull away. She should scream, call someone, run.
But she did none of that.
— Because I've been watching you for a long time, Helena. — His voice was so close now, a hoarse whisper in her ear. — Not just weeks. Years.
She lifted her face, tears blurring her vision.
— Years?
— Since before you knew I existed.
— Why? — Her voice came out broken. — Why me?
Liam raised his hand and, with a gentleness that contrasted with all that frightening intensity, wiped a tear from her face with his thumb.
— Because you were chosen.
— Chosen for what?
His eyes shone — literally shone, a luminous gold that wasn't natural, wasn't human.
— For me.
Helena should have been terrified. Every rational cell in her body screamed to flee. But there was something in that touch, in that closeness, that anchored her in place. As if her body recognized something her mind was still struggling to deny.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You will understand." Liam pulled away slightly, letting his hands fall. "When you're ready, you'll understand everything."
"And what if I don't want to understand? What if I just want to... go on with my life?"
Something akin to pain passed through her From his face.
"You can try." He took another step back. "But we both know you can't pretend anymore that your life was good before me."
It was cruel because it was true.
"That's not fair."
"No. It's not." Liam agreed. "But it's real."
He turned to leave, and panic gripped Helena. That irrational panic of losing something important, vital.
"Liam."
He stopped, looked over his shoulder.
"Tomorrow. In the park." She swallowed hard. "But you're going to tell me everything. No riddles. No half-measures. Everything."
A slow smile formed on his face. It wasn't a reassuring smile. It was wild, triumphant.
"Everything," he promised.
And Helena knew, with absolute certainty, that what would come next would change everything.
Forever.
________________________________________
to be continued...