Chapter 29 : A Rough Night

Chapter 29 : A Rough Night
Emma didn’t stop moving. She couldn’t. Her legs were shaking, but they didn’t slow down. She clutched her bag against her chest and kept whispering under her breath.

“No one knows. No one knows. He couldn’t have known. You imagined it.”

But her brain kept replaying it—the exact sound of that voice, the way the name had rolled out like he’d been waiting to say it. Not her new name. Her old one. The one she had buried.

Her shoes hit the pavement too loud in her ears. She turned a corner and almost tripped.

“Okay, okay, get home. Just get home,” she muttered, glancing behind her. The street looked empty, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was still following.

Her hand shook so bad she almost dropped her keys when she reached into her bag. She kept walking faster, whispering to herself like it would keep her sane.

“Don’t run. If you run, it’s obvious. Just walk. Normal. You’re normal. Nobody’s behind you.”

Her phone buzzed again, lighting up the inside of her bag. She yanked it out, but it was only some random news alert. She stared at the screen anyway, pretending to read it as if that would distract her from the heavy beat of her own heart.

“Why now?” she whispered. “Why tonight? Why that name?”

The closer she got to her building, the worse the pit in her stomach grew. What if he had followed her? What if he was waiting outside her door?

“No. Stop it. Don’t think like that. Just get inside.”

Finally, she reached the front of her apartment complex. She yanked open the glass door and stepped into the lobby so fast she nearly dropped her bag again. The guard at the desk looked up.

“You okay?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Emma forced a tight smile. “Yeah. Long night at work.”

“You look like you ran a mile.”

“I… I just walk fast.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push either. He went back to scrolling through his phone.

Emma’s fingers fumbled with her keys as she headed for the elevator. She punched the button, tapping her foot against the floor, whispering to herself again.

“Come on, come on. Just get upstairs. Lock the door and that’s it.”

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. She stepped in, pressed her floor, and leaned back against the wall, her knees weak. The mirror inside showed her pale face, wide eyes, and trembling lips.

“Pull it together,” she told her reflection. “You’re fine. Nobody followed you, you’re imagining it.”

The elevator crawled upward. Every floor felt too slow. She checked her phone again just to keep her hands busy, there was no new messages. She almost wished someone would text her, just to remind her she wasn’t alone in the world.

Finally, the doors opened. She hurried down the hall, shoved her key into the lock, and pushed her apartment door shut behind her with more force than needed. She leaned against it, breathing hard.

“Safe,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

She locked the deadbolt, then the chain, then checked them again.

Her apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed in on her ears. She dropped her bag on the couch and went straight to the windows. She checked each one twice.

Then she moved to the kitchen and pulled open the drawers, looking for something she could use. Her fingers settled on the biggest knife she owned. She held it tight, whispering again.

“Overreacting. You’re overreacting.”

She carried it with her as she checked the bathroom, the bedroom, even the closet was empty, nothing looked out of place.

“See? Nobody here, it's jst you. Calm down.”

But her heart wouldn’t calm down. The sound of her old name echoed in her head like he was still standing there, whispering it into her ear.

She sat on the couch, knife still in her hand, and dropped her face into her palms.

“Why would anyone know? You erased it. You left everything behind. Nobody here knows.”

She stayed like that for a long time, whispering to herself every few minutes.

“You’re fine. It was random. He probably wasn’t even real, maybe you imagined it.”

But no matter how many times she said it, she couldn’t convince herself.

Finally, she set the knife on the table but kept it close. She curled up on the couch, too scared to move to the bedroom.

Her last words before she finally dozed off were quiet, shaky, and almost a plea.

“Please let this be in my head. Please let nobody know.”

Emma dragged herself into the office the next morning, running on maybe two hours of broken sleep. Her hair wasn’t sitting right no matter how many times she smoothed it, and her eyes stung every time she blinked.

Maria, one of the receptionists, caught her on the way in.

“Rough night?” Maria asked, raising her brows.

Emma forced a weak smile. “Yeah, i couldn’t sleep.”

“Too much coffee late?” she asked.

“Something like that.” I answered.

Maria gave her a quick once-over, like she wanted to ask more, but then the phone rang, and she turned to answer it. Emma took the chance to slip past, heading straight for her desk.

She sat down and booted up her computer, whispering under her breath. “Work, just focus on work.”

But focusing wasn’t easy. Every sound in the office made her flinch. A chair rolling, a printer whirring, footsteps behind her, her head snapped up each time, expecting to see that stranger again.

By mid-morning, she had gone through the same page of a report three times without actually reading it. She rubbed her forehead and muttered, “Get it together.”

A voice startled her. “Talking to yourself?”

She looked up. It was James, one of the junior analysts. He had a coffee in each hand.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Emma sat up straighter. “It’s fine.”

“Want one?” He held out the extra cup.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks.”

He set it on her desk. “You look like you need it.”

Emma tried to smile. “Do I look that bad?”

“Honestly?” He grinned. “Yeah. You do.”

She let out a short laugh, more forced than real. “Thanks for the honesty.”

“No problem.” He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Hey… weird question, but… do you usually stay this late?”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“You’re always here when I leave,” James said casually, sipping his coffee. “Don’t you ever head home earlier?”

Her stomach tightened. “Work piles up.”

“Still,” he tilted his head, watching her too closely. “It’s like you’re trying not to go home.”

Emma’s throat went dry. “You’re reading into things.”

“Maybe,” he said, half-smiling. “But people who avoid going home usually have a reason.”

Her hands gripped the edge of her desk. “I’m fine.”

“Sure.” He gave a quick shrug, as if letting it go, and walked off, sipping his coffee.

Emma sat frozen, staring at the spot where he had stood.

Why would he say that?

She pulled out her phone and opened her notes app, typing fast.

First the man last night, now James. They’re noticing things, this isn’t
random.

She deleted the line immediately, scared someone might see it. A shadow fell across her desk. She looked up too fast, her heart racing.