ch 2

The door closed behind me.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just a soft click that somehow felt heavier than anything that had happened inside the room.

I stayed still for a second.

My hand was still slightly curled at my side, like my body hadn’t fully decided what to do after leaving.

Inside that room, everything had ended.

Outside it, nothing had started yet.

And I was stuck somewhere in between.

I exhaled slowly.

The air in the hallway felt different.

Colder.

Cleaner.

Too controlled.

The kind of silence that didn’t belong to people, but to buildings that didn’t care who walked through them.

I started walking.

Not fast.

Not slow.

Just steady enough to not think too much.

The floor beneath my shoes was polished enough to reflect faint shapes of movement. Every step made a small sound — too clear, too deliberate — like the building was noticing me more than I wanted it to.

Click.

Pause.

Click.

The rhythm followed me without effort.

I didn’t look back.

Because looking back would make it real in a way I wasn’t ready for.

The elevator was already waiting at the end of the corridor.

The doors stood open like they had been expecting me to arrive at this exact second.

That thought made something tighten slightly in my chest, but I ignored it and stepped inside.

The doors slid shut.

And suddenly—

It was just me again.

No voices.

No pressure.

Just mirrors.

Too many reflections of the same person standing in the same confined space, all of them looking slightly too still.

I stared back at myself.

Dark hair slightly out of place.

Cream shirt that no longer looked like it belonged in my life.

Charcoal cardigan sitting unevenly on my shoulders.

Silver ring on my hand catching faint light every time the elevator moved.

I looked normal.

That was the problem.

Nothing about me looked like someone who had just signed something that would change everything.

The elevator began to descend.

Slowly.

Too slowly.

Like it was giving me time I didn’t ask for.

Or didn’t deserve.

I leaned back against the wall, letting my head tilt slightly.

My thoughts tried to stay quiet.

They didn’t.

They kept circling back anyway.

The desk.

The papers.

My father’s voice.

The way he didn’t hesitate.

Like I wasn’t a person to convince.

Just something to use.

My jaw tightened slightly at the memory.

I looked away from my reflection.

I didn’t want to see it anymore.

The elevator finally stopped.

A soft tone.

Doors opening.

The lobby felt colder than before.

Or maybe I was just noticing everything more sharply now.

A receptionist gave a polite nod as I walked past.

I didn’t return it.

Not out of rudeness.

Just… absence.

Like I wasn’t fully participating in the world anymore.

The glass doors ahead opened automatically.

And the rain hit me immediately.

Cold.

Sharp.

Real.

I stood there for half a second under the building’s edge, watching the street blur in front of me.

People moved under umbrellas.

Cars passed through wet reflections of city lights.

Everything outside looked normal.

That was the strangest part.

Nothing had changed for anyone else.

Only for me.

I stepped forward.

The car was already waiting.

Black.

Still.

Patient.

Like it had no interest in where I was coming from.

The driver opened the door immediately.

“Mr. Cross,” he said.

I paused for a moment.

Then got in.

The door closed behind me with a soft thud.

And the world outside disappeared again.

Inside, silence felt heavier.

Not because it was loud.

But because there was nothing to interrupt it anymore.

I leaned back into the seat.

The leather was cold against my back.

The car started moving without needing instruction.

I turned my head slightly toward the window.

Rain streaked across the glass in uneven lines, distorting everything outside into soft shapes that didn’t feel real enough to hold onto.

My phone buzzed once.

Then again.

I didn’t look.

I already knew.

Lily.

Or my mother.

Or both.

I let it stay there.

Unanswered.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because I didn’t have anything to say yet.

My fingers rested loosely in my lap.

Still.

Controlled.

That word kept repeating in my head without me trying to think it.

Control.

Control.

Control.

Not of the situation.

Just of myself.

The car slowed at a traffic light.

Red glow spread across the wet road outside like something bleeding into everything it touched.

I watched it without really focusing.

My reflection faintly appeared in the glass.

Same face.

Same posture.

Same expression I couldn’t fully interpret anymore.

Then the light changed.

Green.

We moved again.

And somewhere in the back of my mind—

without warning, without permission—

I understood something simple.

Whatever I had just signed…

had already started moving without waiting for me to catch up.

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