Chapter 3: Do I Know You?

DANICA

When my alarm buzzed at seven in the morning, I did what I always do. I stayed in bed a little longer, trying to hold onto the fragments of my dream. His face and form had faded, but the events of the dream were still vivid.

It felt so real, and the dreams were always the same. I’d think my mind would come up with different scenarios, different ways we could meet. But it was always the same.

I could recite every detail of every dream by heart. I finally rolled out of bed and threw on something simple. I wasn’t aiming for fashion, just presentability.

I stepped outside, the scent of strong herbal tea greeting me. “Skipping breakfast?” Ms. Moore asked from the porch, sipping her tea in her silk robe.

“Good morning, Ms. Moore,” I replied, pausing beside her.

“Waiting for your prince charming?” I teased.

She gave me a lazy look before breaking into a smile. “No.”

“Don’t be a party pooper. There’s got to be someone who’ll take you, crazy stars and all,” I joked.

Her expression turned icy, and I wondered if I’d crossed a line. “There was. But he can’t come to me anymore.”

Was he dead? I’d learned not to pry into her past, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why?”

She just sipped her tea, ignoring my question. It was a familiar routine. I wasn’t bothered by her silence anymore. I was used to it.

I headed off to work, a ten-minute walk away. My route took me through a park. Joggers were out for their morning runs, dog walkers were out with their pets.

I felt like I knew everyone in this town, except for one person. There was always a man on one of the park benches. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and always wore a heavy black coat.

He looked intriguing, but I never approached him. He seemed to prefer his solitude. My curiosity was piqued. I knew nothing about him, despite seeing him so often.

I entered the diner through the back door, greeted by Miles. “Hey, Danica,” he said, giving me a flirty smile.

“Good morning,” I replied, meeting his blue eyes under his dark, shoulder-length curls. There were five of us on staff, and they were all pretty nice to me, especially Miles.

He’d once confessed that he liked me, but I’d turned him down. I wasn’t sure why. He was nice and good-looking. Maybe I just felt like I wasn’t good enough.

My first and only boyfriend had made that clear. He’d gotten what he wanted from me and then left. As a waitress, my job was to smile and look good. That’s what they’d told me when they hired me.

In this small town, I didn’t think it mattered much. This was the best place for coffee and food. It’s not like there were many other options. The day went on as usual. I took orders, smiled, and served food.

As evening approached, Mr. Wilson came in. He sat at the counter, looking worn out. “Long day?” I asked, pouring him a cup of coffee without waiting for his answer.

“The same,” he said, resting his elbows on the counter. “We searched the whole forest and found nothing suspicious. We told the townsfolk, but they’re still convinced something’s out there.”

He looked exhausted. “Thanks,” he said, nodding at the coffee.

“It’ll blow over,” I assured him. “Can I get you anything else?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I just needed a break from work, and from family.” He looked overwhelmed.

The bell above the door jingled. It was a quiet Monday evening, with only Mr. Wilson and an elderly couple in the diner. “Be right with you,” I called out, not even looking to see who’d come in.

I picked up the menu from the table, offering Mr. Wilson a warm smile. My gaze then shifted to the newcomer who had just settled into the farthest corner of the room.

The diner was small, but he had chosen a spot that was as distant as possible from the rest of us. From my angle, I could only see that he was a man, his dirty blonde hair grown out a bit but neatly swept to the side, revealing a face with strong features.

He was clad in a dark brown jacket, a ripped black top, black jeans, and heavy boots. He didn’t seem like a local. Perhaps he was just visiting someone?

I approached him, but he didn’t acknowledge me until I cleared my throat. “What can I get you?” I asked, my smile fading as he finally looked up at me.

His expression was far from friendly. Yet, there was an unexpected softness in his eyes. It was oddly captivating. I felt a sense of déjà vu, as if this exact moment had occurred before.

His eyes were each a different color—one green, the other blue. It was rare to see such a combination, and it caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily spellbound.

He held something in his hands, extending it toward me to reveal a stone-like object that glowed. I was puzzled by how real and magical it appeared. His gesture was equally baffling.

I looked back at him, eyebrows raised. Was this his attempt to impress me? His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but then he seemed to change his mind. “Pretty…isn’t it?” he said, quickly tucking it away.

I cleared my throat again. “What can I get you?” I repeated my question.

He looked troubled now, as if something was weighing on his mind. “Tea is fine,” he said, his jaw clenching tightly.

“What kind?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Any,” he responded, his tone sharp enough to make me take a step back. Even Mr. Wilson looked over. I didn’t dare to respond with a simple okay.

I retreated to the counter and prepared a cup of black tea. He struck me as a black tea kind of person.

“Who’s he?” Mr. Wilson asked.

I glanced in his direction and shrugged. “Probably just passing through town,” I replied.

“What did he say to you? You seemed startled,” he observed.

“He’s just weird, not the only weirdo here,” I said, picking up the cup of tea and heading back to his table.

“Your tea,” I said, placing it on the table near his clenched fist. I was about to leave when something compelled me to ask, “Are you all right?” I was still a bit frightened.

He burst into laughter. What was his deal? His laugh wasn’t joyful—it was bitter and low. “Am I okay?” he asked, still trying to suppress his laughter. “You should worry for yourself, Danica.”

I stiffened.

“How do you know my name?” I demanded.