Daniel had been sitting at his desk since morning, fingers moving mechanically across the keyboard, but by afternoon his focus had completely dissolved. He stared at the computer screen, his mind wandering back to earlier that day. The hotel room. The shared wounds. The way Cassandra had looked at him like she owned him.
His fingers moved across the keys, but his thoughts were elsewhere. How could Noah not see the scar? How could something be so real to him but invisible to everyone else?
"Hey man," came a familiar voice behind him.
Daniel didn't turn around. "Hey Noah."
"You wanna grab lunch?" Noah asked, moving to stand beside Daniel's chair. "There's this new sandwich place down the street."
"I'm good," Daniel said, still typing. "Still working on these files."
Noah frowned. He knew Daniel better than anyone in this office, knew that his friend never turned down food, especially free food. And after what Daniel had told him this morning...
"What are you working on?" Noah asked, leaning over to look at Daniel's screen.
He stopped mid-sentence. The computer was completely black. Not even the login screen was showing.
"Daniel," Noah said slowly. "You're not typing anything. Your computer is off."
Daniel's fingers froze over the keyboard. He looked at the screen – to him, it had been displaying code, data files, normal work stuff. But now he saw what Noah saw: nothing. A black screen.
'Am I losing my mind?'
"Are you sure you're alright?" Noah asked, his voice carrying the same careful concern from earlier.
"I... I thought it was on," Daniel said quietly. The doubt was creeping in now, making everything feel unstable.
Noah studied his friend's face. Daniel looked genuinely confused, even frightened. Combined with the story from this morning about blood rituals and invisible scars, Noah was starting to worry this was more serious than post-divorce stress.
"Come on," Noah said, his voice gentler now. "Lunch is on me. You need to get out of here for a bit."
Daniel pushed back from his desk, frustration and fear building in his chest. "How am I supposed to eat after what I told you this morning? You didn't believe me. You think I'm losing it."
Noah sat down in the chair next to Daniel's desk. "Look, man, I'm trying to be a good friend here. What you told me earlier... it's concerning. The blood ritual thing, seeing marks that aren't there, now this with the computer..." He paused. "But I'm here for you, okay? We can figure this out."
"You think I'm having a breakdown."
"I think you're under a lot of stress. And maybe you need someone to talk to. Professionally."
Daniel felt anger flare, then fade just as quickly. Maybe Noah was right. Maybe he was losing his grip on reality.
"You know what," Noah said, trying to lighten the mood. "I got some good news for you. Richard and Sarah are on a week-long vacation. At least you won't have to see them around the office."
"Good for them," Daniel said flatly.
Noah stared at him. Usually, any mention of Sarah would send Daniel into either a rage or a depression. He'd rant about Richard, or get that haunted look thinking about his ex-wife. But today...
"You're not upset?" Noah asked. "Normally when I mention Sarah, you—"
"I don't care anymore," Daniel said, meeting Noah's eyes. The words surprised him as much as they surprised Noah. When had that happened? When had the constant ache in his chest just... stopped?
Noah looked genuinely taken aback. "Since when?"
Daniel thought about it. Since this morning? Since Cassandra? He couldn't pinpoint exactly when the obsession with Sarah had lifted, but it was gone. Completely.
"I don't know," Daniel said honestly. "I just... don't."
Something had definitely changed in his friend, Noah realized. The question was whether it was healing or something else entirely.
"Okay," Noah said quietly. "Then this week, I'll make sure your workload is light. Help you get back on track."
"Thanks man, I appreciate it."
Noah smiled, though worry still lingered in his eyes. "So can we get lunch now?"
Daniel looked at his friend and sighed. "Fine. You're hard to ignore." He paused, then added with a slight grin, "Though sometimes you act like a junior colleague instead of my senior. What will people think if they see you babying me?"
Noah laughed. "Let them think what they want."
As they walked toward the elevator, Noah asked, "Are you still staying at that hotel, or do you want to crash at my place? Might be good to have someone around."
The concern in Noah's voice was obvious now. He was worried about leaving Daniel alone.
"No thanks, man. I'll go back to the hotel."
Noah looked at him as they waited for the elevator. "Just... promise me something. If things get weird again, call me. Okay?"
"Yeah," Daniel said. "I will."
They had lunch at the sandwich place, where Noah kept the conversation light, avoiding talk of Sarah or mysterious women or anything that might set Daniel off. But he watched his friend carefully, noting the way Daniel seemed distracted, the way he kept glancing at his left palm.
The rest of the workday passed quietly. Daniel managed to get his computer working – though he couldn't shake the feeling that it had been on before, that somehow his perception was being... altered. He uploaded Noah's files, answered emails, tried to maintain normalcy. But every reflection he caught in windows or monitors confirmed what Noah had said: there was no scar on his palm. Yet when he looked directly at his hand, the C-shaped mark was still there, clear as day.
When evening came and people started leaving, Noah appeared at Daniel's desk one more time.
"You need a ride?"
"I'm good," Daniel said, shutting down his computer.
"Listen," Noah said, his voice serious. "Don't drink tonight, okay? And if anything weird happens – I mean anything – you call me immediately."
Daniel nodded, though he wasn't sure what constituted "weird" anymore.
After Noah left, Daniel didn't immediately head for the exit. Instead, he found himself sitting in one of the chairs by the large windows overlooking the street. The office was mostly empty now, just security guards and cleaning crew. The lights had been dimmed, casting long shadows.
He stared out at the darkening sky, trying to make sense of everything. Was he having a breakdown? Was the stress of the divorce finally catching up to him? Or was something genuinely supernatural happening?
The scar on his palm throbbed, as if responding to his thoughts.
When he finally decided to leave, he stood up and turned around.
Cassandra was standing right behind him.
Daniel jumped back so hard he hit the window, his heart hammering.
"Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing there?"
"Hi darling," she said with that same calm smile. "How was work?"
"You scared the hell out of me," Daniel said, pressing a hand to his chest. As his breathing slowed, reality kicked in. "Wait. How did you get in here? This building has security, key cards, cameras..."
She tilted her head slightly, like the question amused her. "I walked through the lobby, took the elevator, and asked the cleaning lady which desk was yours. People are helpful when you ask nicely."
The way she said it, so matter-of-fact, made Daniel's skin crawl. It wasn't just that people were helpful – it was like they couldn't refuse her.
"How do you even know where I work?" Daniel asked.
"You told me last night," she said simply.
Had he? Daniel tried to remember their conversation at Jimmy's bar, but everything after the third whiskey was hazy.
"Work was fine," he said, forcing a smile.
She was wearing black again – a different dress than this morning, but the same elegant style.
"Come on," Cassandra said, extending her hand. "I have something to show you."
Daniel stared at her hand, then her face. That patient smile, the expectant look in her eyes. Like his compliance wasn't really a question.
After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand.
They walked to the elevator together, Daniel glancing nervously at the security cameras in the corners. How had she gotten past all of this so easily?
Outside, a taxi was waiting at the curb. They got in, and without Cassandra saying anything to the driver, the car pulled away from the curb.
Daniel watched the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. They looked distant, unfocused, like someone sleepwalking.
"Where are we going?" Daniel asked.
Cassandra squeezed his hand. "It's a surprise."
The thirty-minute drive passed mostly in silence. Daniel found himself studying Cassandra's profile as she looked out her window. Everything about her seemed perfect – too perfect. Her skin, her hair, the way she never seemed uncertain about anything.
Finally, the taxi stopped in front of a modest apartment building. They got out, and Daniel automatically reached for his wallet, but the driver was already pulling away.
"Hey!" Daniel called after the disappearing taillights. "He didn't get paid!"
"Don't worry about it," Cassandra said, but something cold flickered in her eyes.
Daniel watched the taxi disappear around the corner, his unease growing. First the building security, now a taxi driver who expected no payment and knew where to go without being told.
"What the hell is going on?" he muttered.
Cassandra turned to him with that gentle smile. "This is our house."
"Our what?"
"Our house," she repeated. "Our home."
Daniel stared at the building – three stories, brick facade, well-maintained. It looked normal enough, but after everything else, he couldn't shake the feeling that nothing about this was real.
"What the fuck have I gotten myself into?" he whispered.
Cassandra's smile widened, and for just a moment, something inhuman flickered behind her eyes.
"Come inside, darling. Let me show you what forever looks like."