CHAPTER 9 — The One He Doesn’t Share
904 Words
The morning light didn’t feel warm.
It felt intrusive.
Alexa stood by the window, staring at a world that refused to stop moving just because hers had.
Her fingers rested on her arm, as if holding herself together was still a choice.
It wasn’t.
Behind her—
she felt him before she heard him.
Always.
“You’re thinking about it again.”
His voice was low.
Close.
Not a question.
She exhaled slowly.
“I’m thinking about everything.”
“That’s not true.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“You’re very confident for someone who doesn’t know what I’m thinking.”
A pause.
Then—
“I know what you always return to.”
That landed differently.
Too precise.
Too personal.
She turned halfway.
“Which is what?”
His gaze didn’t move from her.
“Him.”
Silence.
That single word hit the room harder than it should have.
Alexa looked away first.
“…That’s not something you get to say like that.”
“You keep proving it.”
Her chest tightened.
“I lost my son.”
A beat.
Then—
“You lost a version of him.”
Her breath caught instantly.
“That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” he said.
“It makes it true.”
Her fingers curled at her sides.
“I don’t need truth right now.”
“You always do.”
That answer made her angry.
Sharp.
Immediate.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m predictable.”
A faint shift in his expression.
Not softness.
Not apology.
Just awareness.
“You are not predictable,” he said.
“That’s the problem.”
Before she could respond—
a knock came at the door.
Sharp.
Real.
Out of place in the silence between them.
Alexa frowned slightly.
“…Someone’s here.”
“I know.”
The Devil didn’t move.
That alone made her uneasy.
She stepped forward.
“I’ll see who it is.”
His voice cut in immediately.
“Don’t open it.”
She stopped.
Slowly turned.
“That’s not your decision.”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“It becomes my decision the moment you open it.”
Her breath slowed.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
The knock came again.
This time—
softer.
Familiar.
“Alexa?” a voice called.
Male.
Warm.
Human.
Her chest tightened slightly.
“…Daniel?”
The name came before she fully understood why.
Something inside her reacted to it.
Recognition.
Comfort.
A thread she couldn’t fully hold onto.
The Devil moved closer behind her.
Not touching yet.
But close enough that she felt it in her breathing.
“Don’t open it,” he repeated.
Her brows pulled together.
“Why?”
A pause.
Then—
“Because you will choose him.”
That sentence made her freeze.
She turned her head slightly.
“What does that even mean?”
But he didn’t answer.
The knock came again.
“Alexa, it’s me,” Daniel said softly.
“I just want to know you’re okay.”
Her breath wavered slightly.
“…I know him,” she whispered.
Not fully certain.
But something in her did.
The Devil’s voice lowered.
“You knew him before you broke the timeline.”
Her stomach tightened.
“That’s not possible.”
“You are standing inside something that already happened once.”
That sentence should have confused her.
But instead—
it scared her in a different way.
Because it felt like something she almost remembered.
Another knock.
More urgent now.
“Please,” Daniel said.
“I’ve been worried.”
Alexa’s hand moved slightly toward the door.
Instinct.
Human instinct.
But before she could reach it—
the Devil caught her wrist.
Firm.
Immediate.
Not painful.
But absolute.
Her breath hitched.
“Don’t,” he said.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“Let go.”
But her voice wasn’t strong.
It was uncertain.
That was the difference.
He didn’t release her.
“Every time you open a door like that,” he said quietly,
“you forget what you just lost.”
Her throat tightened.
“I’m not forgetting anything.”
His gaze held hers.
“You already are.”
Silence stretched.
Outside—
Daniel waited.
Alive.
Real.
Close enough to feel safe.
Inside—
the Devil stood closer than anyone should.
Not asking.
Not explaining.
Just holding her in place.
Her chest rose unevenly.
“I just want to see him,” she whispered.
A pause.
Then—
“You want comfort,” he said.
“That is not the same thing.”
Her voice cracked slightly.
“You don’t get to decide what I need.”
His grip tightened slightly.
Not harder.
Just more certain.
“I already did,” he said.
That should have sounded cruel.
But it didn’t.
It sounded final.
The knock came again.
Then silence.
Like Daniel was waiting for permission that wasn’t being given.
Alexa’s breathing shook.
“…I don’t understand what you’re doing,” she said.
His voice lowered.
“You will.”
A pause.
Then—
“And when you do, you won’t open that door again.”
That sentence landed deep.
Not as a threat.
As a certainty.
Her fingers trembled.
Because part of her—
the part she didn’t want to admit—
was already hesitating.
Not between two people.
Between two versions of herself.
And she didn’t know which one was more dangerous.
- Writer
