How Did He Know My Name?
1193 Words
Aria couldn't move. The stranger sat comfortably in an armchair near the lamp, watching her as if they were meeting for coffee. The apartment manager had said the room was empty. Everyone had said it was empty, yet there this man was…reading. Looking at her like was expecting her. The worst part was…he knew her name.
"Hello, Aria."
The words echoed in her head. A warning bell rang somewhere deep inside her. Everything in her body urged her to leave. Instead, she stood there staring at him.
"Who are you?"
The man closed his book and placed it carefully on the side table.
"Damien."
"Just Damien?"
His mouth twitched slightly.
"Most people ask fewer questions after breaking into someone's apartment."
"Most people don't find strangers inside rooms that are supposed to be empty."
"Fair point."
Aria glanced toward the open door behind her. She was still close enough to leave, few steps from walking away from the chaos but she stayed. Partly because she wanted answers. Things weren't adding up.
"How do you know my name?"
Damien leaned back. His eyes stayed on hers. For a moment she thought he might answer. Instead he asked,
"How long have you been working here?"
Aria blinked.
"What?"
"At Blackwood."
"About ten hours."
He nodded as if that information mattered. Then silence returned. The man was impossible.
"You didn't answer my question."
"You didn't answer mine."
"You asked a stupid question."
A faint smile appeared but left almost immediately.
For some reason, that bothered her. It made no sense that this stranger smiled while making her uncomfortable. Aria folded her arms.
"Look, Damien, or whatever your name is…"
"It is my name."
"Fine. Damien. How do you know who I am?"
The room became still. Outside the large windows, city lights glittered across the darkness. A distant siren echoed somewhere below. Damien finally looked away, his gaze toward the window and into the city.
Toward something she couldn't see. When he spoke again, his voice sounded calmer.
"I knew your mother."
The words stabbed through her chest. Everything inside her seemed to stop for a second.
"My mother?"
Damien nodded once.
"Yes."
The answer arrived so casually that it felt unreal. Aria stared at him and laughed in disapproval
"No."
Damien said nothing.
"My mother never mentioned you."
He responded with a smile but Aria was dazed.
"You're lying."
His expression didn't change, which made the situation worse.
"My mother is dead."
The words slipped out before she could stop them, pain flashed through her chest. The same pain that always appeared whenever she said it aloud. It was a small word, but the memories it pulled were sad ones. For the first time since she'd entered the apartment, Damien's eyes softened. Not with pity, but regret. The sight unsettled her. Regret meant history. And history meant he wasn't making this up.
"I'm aware," he said quietly.
Aria's stomach tightened.
"How?", she asked but he spoke no further. She was beginning to hate his silence. Every time she asked something important, he disappeared behind it.
"How?" she repeated.
Damien rubbed a hand across his jaw.
"You should sit down."
"No."
"You're upset."
"No kidding."
"Aria…"
"Don't."
His mouth closed. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before. She wanted answers and not half-finished conversations, or mysterious pauses. Not whatever this was. Her eyes drifted across the apartment.
For the first time, she properly looked around. The place didn't resemble a hiding spot. It looked like a home. Books filled nearly every shelf. A chessboard sat on a nearby table, coffee cups rested in the sink.
A blanket lay folded across the couch. Ordinary objects people used every day, which made everything stranger. If Damien was hiding…he had been hiding for a long time.
Aria slowly walked deeper into the apartment. Damien watched but didn't stop her. A guilty person would've panicked or most likely demanded she leave. Instead, he remained seated. Calm.
Her attention landed on a bookshelf near the far wall. Something felt off. Several books sat unevenly. Like they'd been moved recently.
Curious, she stepped closer to the shelf. Damien stood immediately.
The movement was small but she noticed. For the first time all night, he looked concerned.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"You're a terrible liar."
Damien sighed.
"That's probably true."
Aria reached toward the shelf, his shoulders tightened slightly. Whatever was there…he cared about it. And it made her want to see it even more. She slid one book aside, one by one. Behind them sat a small wooden old box. It was worn out from years of existence.
Aria picked it up. Damien started toward her.
"Aria," he called out, but it was too late. She'd already opened it. Inside lay dozens of old photographs. Family gatherings. Parties. Business events. Vacations. Memories frozen in time.
Aria flipped through them. Most of them featured Damien. A Younger version of him. Then she stopped, her breath caught. The photograph nearly slipped from her fingers.
"No way."
The word escaped before she realized she'd spoken. A woman smiled back at her, Dark hair. Bright eyes. Familiar smile. It was her mother.
Aria stared. Unable to look away. The world around her disappeared, only the photograph remained. Her mother stood beside Damien. Close enough that their shoulders touched. She seemed comfortable. Like two people who genuinely knew each other.
Were they more than friends? The thought made her stomach twist. Slowly, she lifted her eyes towards him.
Damien had stopped moving. His face looked pale.
"Where did you get this?"
Her voice sounded distant like it belonged to someone else's. Damien looked at the photograph, then at her.
"I kept it."
"Why?"
"Because she mattered."
The answer lingered heavily between them. Aria looked back at the photograph. Her mother's smile seemed almost alive. For a second she remembered hospital rooms, the goodbyes, the unbearable quiet afterward. A knot formed in her throat. She hated feeling vulnerable, especially in front of a stranger. She swallowed hard, then something caught her attention. There was a faint writing on the back.
Aria frowned in curiosity. Slowly, she turned the photograph over.
Damien's expression changed the moment he realized what she was holding, all color drained from his face.
"Aria."
She ignored him.
The handwriting was painfully familiar. Every birthday card. Every note. Every shopping list.
She knew it immediately. It was her mother's handwriting. Her heart began pounding. The message was short, only a single sentence. Aria read it once, then again. Then a third time because her brain refused to believe it. Written in fading blue ink were the words:
“If anything happens to me, find Damien.”
The room went completely silent. Aria couldn't breathe, move or think.
Find Damien.
Why? Why him? Who was he? What hadn't her mother told her? So many questions flooded her mind. As she lifted her eyes, Damien was already looking at her. Like he'd known this moment would come. Neither of them spoke.
Damien broke the silence. His voice was faint, as if he had just come to a realization.
"Your mother never told you about me, did she?"
- Writer
