Chapter 2 Perfume and moonlight

I woke up feeling like I'd dreamt the whole thing.

The alley.

The man in black.

The red stain that looked too much like blood.

His voice, quiet but deep.

The way he held that latte cup like he didn't know what to do with kindness.

I blinked at the ceiling for a long time, waiting for something to make sense.

It didn't.

Instead, I felt... off. Like something inside me was tilted. My bones didn't sit right under my skin.

I touched my coat where the coffee had spilled. Still faintly sticky.

Not a dream, then.

I got out of bed slowly. My head felt full, like a storm cloud about to burst. I didn't want to check my phone. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

I just needed to breathe.

The smell of lavender and warm amber filled the shop as I opened up late that morning. It was comforting-my own blend. I called it "Fevered Petals." I don't even know why. It just sounded like something I'd wear when I wanted to feel braver than I really was.

My uncle was already at the front counter, arms crossed, phone in hand.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

"I know," I mumbled, heading straight for the back room.

"Don't go hiding. We've got orders backed up."

"I just need five minutes," I said, already walking away.

He sighed, loud enough that I heard it even through the shelves.

My little workspace felt safer. Bottles of oils, dried flowers, and vials with scribbled notes. It was messy, but it was mine.

I sat at the table, trying to distract myself by blending a few new samples for a client. Something soft but bold. A little citrus. A little spice. But nothing felt right.

I stopped halfway and stared at my hands.

Why did I talk to him?

Why didn't I run?

Why did I feel like he was someone I already... knew?

Not in this life, maybe, but somewhere deep inside?

My phone buzzed. A message from the gallery.

I didn't open it.

Then a knock at the door startled me.

I peeked out.

A delivery guy stood awkwardly, holding a slim black box tied with silver ribbon.

"For Miss Eden Monroe," he said, reading off a card. "From... uh, no name. Just initials. C.D."

My heart skipped.

I took the box with both hands, unsure why they were trembling. The delivery guy left without another word.

I brought the box into the workroom and set it down.

Carefully, I opened it.

Inside was a long silver chain holding a pendant the color of melting ice-pale blue, almost white. Beneath it, a simple note:

"If you're going to haunt me, at least wear something beautiful while doing it.

-C"

My fingers gripped the paper.

So he wasn't a dream.

Not a figment of exhaustion or fear.

And somehow, he found me.

When I left for home that night, I looked over my shoulder three different times.

No shadows.

No trench coats.

No moonlight man.

But when I reached my apartment and turned on the light-there it was. The necklace. Still clutched in my hand.

And somehow, the whole room smelled faintly of burnt sugar and night air.

I didn't sleep much.

But I wore the necklace to bed.