Chapter 4 Four

Eve's POV

The weeks I spent at Samantha's place felt like a dream-an escape from the nightmare that was Aunt Sarah's house. It wasn't perfect, but it was safe. Samantha's warm smile and gentle words made me feel like I could breathe again. I focused on my new job at the café, trying to save up and get my life back on track. It wasn't much, but it was something.

One evening after my shift, I sat down with Samantha in her cozy living room. The TV was on, but neither of us was really watching it. My mind was far away, lost in thoughts of the past, and the uncertainty of the future.

"Eve, you've been really strong through all of this," Samantha said, breaking the silence. "But I can see that something's still bothering you."

I sighed, hugging a cushion tightly. "I keep thinking about that night," I admitted. "The one-night stand. It was such a mistake, but I can't seem to shake it off. I don't even remember the guy's face. It's like... it's haunting me."

Samantha looked at me with concern. "Do you think it could be because you haven't really dealt with it? Maybe that's why it's still on your mind."

"Maybe," I replied, shrugging. "But what can I do? I don't even know who he is."

"You could try to find out," she suggested cautiously. "I mean, you said you went to that club, right? Maybe someone there knows him?"

The idea made me nervous, but Samantha had a point. I couldn't just keep running from it. If I wanted to move on, I needed to face everything that was holding me back.

"You're right," I said, nodding slowly. "Maybe I should go back there and see if anyone knows him. It's worth a shot, right?"

"Exactly," Samantha encouraged, her smile returning. "And I'll come with you. You don't have to do this alone."

The thought of returning to that place filled me with anxiety, but with Samantha by my side, I felt a little braver. The next night, we dressed up and headed out to the club where it all happened. My heart pounded in my chest as we approached the entrance. Memories of that night flashed in my mind-the loud music, the crowded dance floor, the mysterious man.

Inside, the club was just as I remembered: dark, loud, and filled with people. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Samantha squeezed my hand reassuringly as we made our way to the bar.

"Hey, do you remember me?" I asked the bartender, leaning over the counter. He was a middle-aged man with a kind face, and he seemed to recognize me after a moment.

"Yeah, you were here a few weeks ago," he replied, nodding. "Had a pretty wild night, didn't you?"

I blushed, feeling embarrassed. "Yeah, about that... I was wondering if you could help me. I was with a guy that night, and I don't remember much about him. Do you know who he was?"

The bartender frowned, thinking for a moment. "A lot of people come through here, but I think I remember him. Tall, dark hair, kind of brooding? He left with you, right?"

"Yes! That's him!" I said eagerly. "Do you know his name?"

"Sorry, I don't," he said, shaking his head. "But he comes here often. Maybe if you wait around, you might run into him again."

It wasn't the answer I was hoping for, but it was something. Samantha and I decided to stick around for a while, hoping that the mysterious man would show up. We found a quiet corner and sat down, watching the crowd as they danced and laughed.

Hours passed, and there was no sign of him. My hopes began to dwindle as the night wore on. Just when I was about to give up, I spotted a tall figure entering the club. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him-the man from that night.

"That's him," I whispered to Samantha, my voice trembling with excitement and fear.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking at him.

I nodded, unable to take my eyes off him. He was even more handsome than I remembered, with his dark hair and sharp features. He walked with a confidence that made him stand out in the crowd.

"Go talk to him," Samantha urged, giving me a gentle push.

I hesitated, but I knew she was right. This was my chance to finally get some answers. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and made my way towards him. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel my hands shaking.

As I got closer, he looked up and our eyes met. For a moment, neither of us said anything. I could see the recognition in his eyes, and I knew he remembered me too.

"Hi," I said nervously, my voice barely audible over the music.

"Hi," he replied, his voice deep and smooth. "I remember you."

"I... I've been looking for you," I admitted, feeling a little foolish.

"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I need to know... about that night," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't remember much, and I just need to know what happened."

He looked at me for a long moment, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell me the truth. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. Let's go somewhere quiet where we can talk."

We left the club and found a small café nearby. The atmosphere was much calmer, and I felt a little more at ease. We sat down at a table, and he ordered us some coffee.

"So," he began, leaning back in his chair. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," I said, looking him in the eye. "I need to know who you are and what really happened that night."

He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving mine. "My name is Ziah. Ziah Randolph. And that night... well, it wasn't supposed to happen. But it did. We both had too much to drink, and things just got out of hand."

"Ziah," I repeated, the name feeling both familiar and foreign on my tongue. "But why can't I remember anything?"

"You were pretty out of it," he said, his tone apologetic. "I'm sorry, Eve. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words. It wasn't the explanation I was hoping for, but at least now I had some answers. At least now, I knew who he was.

But as we continued talking, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story than Ziah was letting on. And I was determined to find out what it was.