A Fever

A Fever
"Anastasia’s POV"

It starts with a phone call.

A number I don’t recognize flashes on the screen. I hesitate for a second before answering. Leomord’s in the kitchen, washing dishes, humming a tune I taught him last night.

“Hello?”

There’s silence at first. Then a voice I haven’t heard in years.

“Anastasia?”

I freeze. My fingers go cold.

“Who is this?” I ask, though I already know.

“It's__ it’s Theo. From before, high school. You probably don’t want to talk to me. I get it. But__I had to call.”

He used to be Marcus's best friend. When I went on that cursed that with him, Theo knew.

I don’t say anything. My chest feels tight, like it’s caving in.

“I got your number from one of our old classmates,” he continues. “I’ve been trying to find you.”

I walk out onto the porch so Leomord won’t hear. The air outside is crisp, the sky overcast.

“I’m married now,” I say, even though it’s not true yet.

“That’s not why I called,” he says quickly. “I—I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For what happened. For not helping you that night. For walking away when you needed someone to stay.”

I close my eyes. My breath shakes.

“I hated myself for it,” he adds. “And I still do.”

My voice is low when I reply. “It’s too late.”

“I know. But you deserve to hear it. You deserve peace.”

He hangs up before I can answer.

I stare at the screen. The wind picks up around me, rustling the trees. I don’t cry. But I don’t go inside, either.

Because I feel like I’ve been pushed back into the past again. And the timing couldn’t be worse.

~

That night, I’m quiet. Leomord notices.

“You okay?” he asks while we’re getting ready for bed.

I nod. “Just a headache.”

He frowns. “Want me to get you something?”

“No. I just need rest.”

He doesn’t push, but his eyes don’t leave me for a long time. He knows I’m lying. I’m just not ready to explain yet.

I lie awake for hours, my mind replaying that voice. That name. That part of my life I’ve buried so deep I forgot it could resurface.

What if Theo isn’t the only one looking for me?

What if the past has found its way into this peace we built?

The next morning, Leomord’s not beside me when I wake up. I find him outside, talking to someone near the front gate.

At first I think it’s a neighbor.

Until I see the look on Leomord’s face.

He’s tense. Guarded.

The man speaking to him is well-dressed, sharp eyes, the kind that scan and study. Not a local.

I stay behind the curtain, watching.

When the man finally leaves, Leomord stays standing there, motionless for a while.

Then he looks back at the house, and for the briefest second, our eyes meet through the glass.

And I know.

It’s starting again.

By the time Leomord comes back inside, I’ve already started the tea kettle. My hands are shaking, though I try to hide it.

He sits down across from me at the small kitchen table. Says nothing for a moment.

“Who was he?” I ask, gently.

He doesn’t pretend to not know who I mean.

“An old contact,” he says. “From back then.”

I stir the sugar into my tea. “He didn’t look like someone passing by.”

Leomord sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not. He was here to deliver a message. From the boss.”

I look up. “The same one who__?”

“Yes.”

The same one who beat him. Who dragged him back into the shadows just when we were starting to see the light.

I don’t even ask what the message was. I don’t want to hear it. Not now.

Instead, I say, “I got a call yesterday.”

Leomord tilts his head, listening.

“It was Theo. From high school.”

His brows furrow.

I hesitate, then speak again, voice lower, “He was there that night. Outside. When Marcus_ hurt me.”

Leomord goes still.

“I didn’t tell you about Theo before because__ I didn’t think it mattered. But he called yesterday. He said he wanted to apologize. For not stopping it. For watching me fall apart and doing nothing.”

Leomord clenches his jaw. “So he just randomly decided to show up after all these years?”

“He didn’t show up. Just called. He got my number from someone else.”

He looks away, but I can feel the tension in his shoulders.

“He wants to meet,” I say, softer. “Just once. Not because of anything romantic. I think he wants closure. Or maybe I do.”

Leomord leans forward, pressing his palms against his knees. “Do you want to see him?”

I pause. “I want to understand why no one helped me back then. I want to hear someone say it wasn’t my fault. You gave me a ride back home. But you wasn't there when it happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

I nod, eyes burning. “But it still lives in me. I carry it everywhere. Even here, even with you.”

He looks up at me finally. “You think I don’t carry things too?”

“I know you do.”

He stands slowly, moving around the table, and kneels in front of me. His hands take mine.

“You deserve peace, Anastasia. If seeing him gives you that, I won’t stop you. But don’t go alone.”

I blink at him.

“I’ll be nearby,” he says. “I won’t interfere. But I can’t let you go into that kind of past without something to hold onto.”

My heart cracks a little.

This man. With all his darkness. With all his walls. He still tries to protect me.

“I don’t want the past to ruin what we have,” I whisper.

“Then don’t let it.”

I press my forehead to his. “You’re the only person who’s ever stood with me after knowing the whole story.”

His hands tighten around mine. “That’s because I love you.”

I look into his eyes. And I see the fear there too. Fear of losing me. Fear of falling back into the man he once was.

“We’ll get through this,” I say.

The kettle whistles.

Neither of us moves.

Because for now, in this moment, we are holding each other together, piece by fragile piece.