Chapter 2 - The Past Never Sleeps
964 Words
The rest of Anna’s shift passed in a blur, but her thoughts remained tangled around the man who had waltzed into her life like a ghost from a past she couldn’t quite place. She forced herself to focus, taking orders, wiping tables, and managing the register, but every so often, her gaze flickered to the door, half-expecting him to walk back in.
He didn’t.
By the time her shift ended, the rain had slowed to a dull drizzle. The streets glistened under the glow of streetlights as she stepped outside, pulling her coat tighter. Magreth appeared at her side, linking their arms together.
“You’ve been distracted all day,” Magreth noted, her voice teasing but laced with concern. “Something on your mind, cupcake?”
Anna rolled her eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “I don’t know. Just a weird day.”
Magreth hummed. “Weird as in ‘I-met-a-hot-guy-and-now-I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-him’ kind of weird?”
Anna scoffed. “Hardly. He’s an asshole.”
“That doesn’t mean he isn’t hot.”
Anna sighed, choosing not to argue. Magreth had a way of making everything seem lighthearted, even when Anna’s world felt anything but.
They walked together until their paths split—Magreth heading home, Anna to her second job at a convenience store. It wasn’t much, but it kept her afloat, kept the electricity on, kept food on the table. Barely.
The store was nearly empty when she arrived. The scent of instant noodles and cheap air freshener filled the air. She clocked in and settled behind the register, pulling her hoodie over her head. Hours crawled by in silence, only interrupted by the occasional customer. The monotony was comforting.
Until the bell above the door chimed.
Anna looked up, expecting another tired worker picking up snacks after a long shift. Instead, her stomach clenched.
Him.
The man from the café. The man who had looked at her like he knew her.
He strolled in with the same effortless confidence, dressed more casually now in a fitted sweater and dark jeans, but he still carried the same air of control. He was speaking into his phone, his tone clipped and businesslike, his free hand shoving into his pocket as he scanned the shelves.
Anna willed herself to ignore him, focusing on restocking a nearby display. But then a familiar, saccharine voice cut through the air.
“Oh, look what we have here.”
Anna froze.
That voice.
It was a ghost she had prayed never to see again.
Slowly, she turned, her blood running cold as her gaze locked onto Gizelle.
Perfect, polished, venomous Gizelle.
She was draped in a sleek designer coat, her heels clicking against the tile as she approached the counter. Her painted lips curled into a smirk as she leaned in, voice dripping with mock delight.
“If it isn’t little Anna Sinclair,” she crooned. “What a surprise. Working late nights now? How quaint.”
Anna swallowed, forcing herself to remain calm, though her nails dug into her palms. She had promised herself she would never let Gizelle get under her skin again.
“What do you want?” Anna asked, her voice flat.
Gizelle gasped in mock offense. “Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“Old friend?” Anna let out a bitter laugh. “That’s a funny way to describe yourself.”
Gizelle’s smirk didn’t falter. “I see prison hasn’t changed your attitude.”
Anna’s fingers twitched. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. She wouldn’t give Gizelle the satisfaction of seeing her rattled.
Just then, the man—him—appeared at Gizelle’s side, setting a few items on the counter. He looked between them, sensing the tension.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone deceptively light, but his eyes were sharp.
Gizelle’s expression transformed in an instant. She turned to him with a sweet smile, looping her arm through his. “Oh, of course, darling. Anna and I go way back.”
Darling.
Anna’s stomach twisted. So, he was her boyfriend? The realization made her head spin, though she had no idea why it bothered her at all.
She swallowed back the bitterness and reached for the scanner, her voice clipped. “Cash or card?”
The man—Damien—glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he pulled out his card. Anna took the card, black card with golden writings Damien Navarro she found herself repeating the name in her head as she swiped it, handed him the receipt, and turned away without another word.
Gizelle, ever the actress, beamed. “We should catch up sometime, Anna. I’d love to reminisce about old times.”
Anna didn’t respond.
Gizelle let out a fake giggle before leading Damien out of the store, her heels echoing in her wake. Anna exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the counter. Her head was spinning, her chest tight.
She had spent years trying to move forward, trying to bury the ghosts of her past.
And now, just like that, they had found her again.
Damien walked beside Gizelle, barely registering her chatter. His mind was elsewhere—on her. On Anna Sinclair.
He had been following her for weeks, learning her routines, understanding the life she had built after prison. He had planned this meeting, orchestrated it so that their paths would cross.
But he hadn’t expected the way she would look at him.
He had spent years hating her name, cursing her existence. And yet, tonight, when their eyes met, something didn’t sit right.
She didn’t look like a cold-blooded murderer.
She looked… lost.
And for the first time since he started this mission, he felt something unsettling creeping into his resolve.
Doubt.
- Writer
