Something Almost Familiar
908 Words
Back at the nurses’ station—
The whispers had grown quieter.
But more frequent.
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“That’s the second time he’s asked for her.”
“He’s still here?”
“Why hasn’t he left?”
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“…Do you think she knows?”
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A shake of the head.
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“No. And maybe it’s better that way.”
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Isolde returned, placing her file down with a small exhale.
“Today feels… strange,” she murmured.
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“You noticed too?”
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She looked up.
“…What do you mean?”
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Her colleague leaned slightly closer.
“People like him don’t come here without a reason.”
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A pause.
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“And they definitely don’t stay.”
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Something in Isolde’s chest tightened.
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“…Maybe he just needed help,” she said.
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Even as she said it—
It sounded… uncertain.
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Her colleague didn’t argue.
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But she didn’t agree either.
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“Isolde Faylen.”
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The voice came from behind her.
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Calm.
Controlled.
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Too familiar now.
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She turned slowly.
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Lucian stood there.
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Not in the room this time.
Not distant.
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Closer.
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Part of her world now.
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“Yes?” she asked, her voice softer than before.
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“I require further attention.”
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Her brows drew together slightly.
“…You were already checked.”
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“Not thoroughly.”
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A pause.
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It wasn’t the words.
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It was the way he said them.
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As if the meaning wasn’t limited to treatment.
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Isolde hesitated.
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Behind her, she could feel it—
The attention.
The watching.
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Everyone had noticed now.
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“…Alright,” she said finally.
Professional.
Steady.
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“Follow me.”
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Lucian didn’t move immediately.
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Instead—
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer.
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Then—
He followed.
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As they walked down the hallway—
Isolde felt it clearly now.
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The shift.
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Not just in the hospital.
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But in something else.
Something quieter.
Closer.
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Because this time—
He wasn’t just watching her.
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He was choosing to stay.
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And for the first time—
Isolde didn’t feel like she could simply walk away from him.
The room felt smaller than before.
Not physically.
But in a way Isolde couldn’t quite explain.
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Lucian sat where she had left him.
Calm.
Composed.
Watching.
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“I thought your treatment was done,” she said, keeping her tone professional as she stepped back inside.
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“It was.”
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A pause.
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“Then why are you still here?”
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Lucian tilted his head slightly.
“Is that a problem?”
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“…No,” she replied, though it didn’t sound entirely certain.
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He watched her walk past him, her movements slower now.
More aware.
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Good.
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“You ask a lot of questions,” he said.
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She let out a small breath.
“That’s because you don’t answer them.”
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A faint pause.
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Lucian’s gaze sharpened slightly.
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Still the same.
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“Do you remember everyone you meet?” he asked suddenly.
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The question caught her off guard.
“…No.”
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“Why not?”
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She frowned slightly.
“That’s not really possible.”
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“Why?”
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Isolde turned to look at him properly now.
“…Because people come and go,” she said slowly. “You can’t hold onto every single one.”
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Lucian’s expression didn’t change.
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But some stay.
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“And if someone doesn’t want to be forgotten?”
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The question lingered.
Too deliberate.
Too specific.
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Isolde hesitated.
“…Then they shouldn’t disappear in the first place.”
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A pause.
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Lucian leaned back slightly.
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Interesting.
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Her answer wasn’t wrong.
But it wasn’t complete either.
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“Have you ever stopped someone from leaving?” he asked.
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She blinked.
“…What kind of question is that?”
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“A simple one.”
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Isolde looked away briefly.
“…No,” she said. “If someone wants to go, you let them.”
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Another pause.
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Lucian’s gaze darkened slightly.
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Is that what you did?
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He said nothing.
But something in the air shifted again.
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Isolde felt it.
That same strange pull.
Like she was standing on the edge of remembering something—
But couldn’t reach it.
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“…Have we really never met before?” she asked again.
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This time—
Quieter.
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Lucian didn’t answer immediately.
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Instead, he stood.
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The movement was slow.
Controlled.
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And suddenly—
The distance between them felt… smaller.
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“Does it matter?” he asked.
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Her breath caught slightly.
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“…Yes.”
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A pause.
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For a moment—
It almost felt like he would say it.
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Almost.
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But then—
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“You’ll remember eventually,” he said instead.
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Confusion flickered across her face.
“…That doesn’t make any sense.”
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Lucian didn’t explain.
He simply walked past her.
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And left.
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Leaving behind—
Questions.
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Isolde stood there for a moment longer than she should have.
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You’ll remember eventually.
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The words lingered.
Unsettling.
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Because for the first time—
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
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- Writer
