Chapter 2 The Impossible Truth

Rain hammered against the café's wide glass windows, distorting the world beyond into smears of light and shadow. Stella Morgan stared blankly at her laptop, the glowing screen reflecting a half-finished essay on immunology. The cursor blinked at her, a silent mockery of her inability to focus. She should have been worried about deadlines or the growing list of lab assignments, but tonight her mind felt like it was trapped beneath a heavy fog.

The café was alive with its usual quiet hum; students whispering over textbooks, the clinking of cups and saucers, and the hiss of the espresso machine. Yet, Stella felt as though she was in a bubble, her thoughts isolated from the mundane chatter around her, like she was trapped in some lethargic syrup.

"Stella?" Nadia's voice broke through, pulling her out of her trance. Stella looked up to find her best friend leaning forward, her sharp brown eyes narrowing in concern. "You're zoning out again. What's going on?"

"I don't know," Stella said, running a hand through her dark hair. "I just feel... restless."

"Restless?" Nadia arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "You? Miss Order-and-Routine feels restless?"

Stella rolled her eyes but didn't argue. It wasn't like her to feel this way; on edge, like something just beyond her reach was waiting to happen.

"Maybe you're just bored," Nadia said, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. "You've been working too hard. When was the last time you went out?"

Stella frowned. "Last weekend. We went to that gallery downtown, remember?"

Nadia snorted. "That doesn't count. I mean out out. A place with music, drinks, bad lighting, and worse decisions. You need to loosen up, Stella."

"I'm fine," Stella replied, though even she didn't believe it. She couldn't shake the feeling.

"No, you're not. Which is why we're going to The Silver Fang tonight."

"The Silver Fang?" Stella's stomach twisted. She had heard of the club; its reputation for attracting the city's most eclectic and chaotic crowd made it infamous. It wasn't exactly her scene.

"Yes, The Silver Fang," Nadia said, grinning mischievously. "You need a change of pace, and I need a wingwoman. It's perfect."

"I don't know..."

Nadia leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Come on, Stella. Who knows? Maybe tonight's the night you meet someone who changes your life."

Stella wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion. She didn't believe in chance encounters or life-changing moments, but something about Nadia's words made the restless feeling inside her stir.

*******

The Silver Fang was everything Stella had feared and more. Pulsing lights painted the walls in shifting hues of blue and red, and the bass of the music thrummed so deeply it felt like it was vibrating in her chest. The air was thick with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and something metallic that Stella couldn't place.

Nadia practically dragged her through the throng of bodies, weaving expertly between gyrating dancers and clusters of people shouting over the music. Stella clutched her drink tightly, her nerves heightened by the overwhelming sensory overload.

"This is insane," she shouted over the music.

"This is fun!" Nadia countered, flashing a dazzling smile. "Just relax and let yourself feel it, Stella. It's good for you."

Stella doubted it, but she took another sip of her drink, hoping the alcohol would dull her discomfort. It didn't and so she took a gulp instead. She leaned against the edge of the bar, scanning the crowd with idle curiosity. That's when she saw him.

He stood apart from the chaos, a figure of stillness in a storm. Dressed in dark, tailored clothing, he leaned casually against a shadowed wall, as though the cacophony around him didn't exist. His face, partially obscured by the dim light, was strikingly angular; beautiful in a way that felt almost inhuman.

But it was his eyes that caught her. Even across the distance, they seemed to burn with an unnatural intensity, piercing through the layers of shadow and smoke. For a moment, Stella forgot to breathe.

He was watching her.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze was not merely curious; it was focused, deliberate, as if he had been waiting for her, as if he could only see her.

"Stella?" Nadia's voice jolted her, and she turned away, her heart racing.

"What?"

"I said, do you want to dance?" Nadia followed her gaze, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Oooh. Who's that?"

"I don't know," Stella said quickly, though the words felt strange on her tongue. She didn't know him, but something about him felt... familiar.

"Well, he's gorgeous. And he's looking right at you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Stella muttered, but when she glanced back, he was gone.

She looked around, trying to see where he had gone. No such luck!

Her chest tightened with an odd mix of relief and disappointment. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the strange pull she had felt. It was probably just the atmosphere; the lights, the music, the alcohol.

But as the night wore on, she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. The restless feeling had only gotten worse. Something was waiting to happen.

*******

The next morning, Stella woke with a pounding headache and fragments of the previous night blurring in her memory. She had stayed longer than she intended, though she couldn't recall much after her second drink. Nadia had been annoyingly chipper at the club, babbling about the night's chaos.

Stella groaned, pulling herself out of bed and heading to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to banish the remnants of fatigue. But as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, a flicker of unease crept over her.

Something felt off.

Her skin looked pale, almost luminous, and her eyes, usually a soft brown, seemed darker, sharper. She shook her head, chalking it up to exhaustion and dehydration.

The queasiness started a week later.

At first, it was subtle; a faint nausea that came and went. Then it became constant, forcing her to skip meals and avoid coffee. Nadia teased her about catching a stomach bug, but Stella felt something deeper, something wrong.

The tipping point came during her microbiology lab. One moment she was fine, staring at the sterile tools on the countertop, and the next, her vision blurred. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor.

She woke in the campus clinic, a nurse leaning over her with a concerned expression.

"You fainted," the nurse said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Stella mumbled, though her head throbbed.

The nurse nodded. "We ran some preliminary tests, just to rule out anything serious. There's one thing we need to discuss."

Stella frowned. "What is it?"

The nurse hesitated, then held up a small plastic test with two faint lines visible on its surface.

"You're pregnant."

The words hit Stella like a physical blow, her breath catching in her throat.

"That's... that's not possible," she stammered.

But the test didn't lie. And as the nurse explained the next steps, Stella's mind spiraled back to that night at The Silver Fang; to the stranger with burning eyes and a magnetic presence.

Adrian.

Her pulse quickened. She didn't know how, but deep down, she knew the impossible truth. There's no other explanation for how she knew his name.