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Asha exhaled slowly, watching Saera disappear into the night, her footsteps unsteady, her breath still ragged from panic.

"I did it all for her."

The words left Asha's lips in barely a whisper, but they rang with conviction.

She knew what it was like—to be watched, to feel eyes burning into your back, to never be sure if you were truly alone. It wasn’t just paranoia. It was a sickness, a weight that settled in your chest and never let go. And no matter how much time passed, no matter how far you ran, it always lingered.

Lucille wouldn’t have to feel that. Not anymore.

Asha sighed, rolling her shoulders as if she could shake off the residual tension in her muscles. I should get going.

She turned on her heel, leaving the empty street behind as she made her way home. The cool night air felt different now—less suffocating, less thick with the stench of someone else's obsession.

When she finally stepped through the front door of her apartment, she didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, she collapsed onto her bed, pulling out her phone. The screen’s glow illuminated her face as she typed.

Ashanty 》 You get home safe?

Seconds passed before the reply came.

Lucille 》 Yeah, thanks to a certain someone. You know her very well..

Asha smirked, running her tongue over her teeth.

Ashanty 》 Oh yeah? Is she… a vampire?

Lucille 》 Not sure, but I have my suspicions..

Asha laughed quietly, the sound barely audible in the stillness of her room.

Lucille was the only person she could talk to about this—about herself—and only because Lucille thought it was all a joke.

And maybe… maybe that was okay.

Maybe it was easier this way.

Because the truth? It wasn’t something people laughed about. It wasn’t something people joked about in texts or threw around in conversation. It was dark. It was hungry. It was an inescapable part of her existence.

But when she was with Lucille, it didn’t feel so heavy.

As long as they could keep talking like this, keep sharing these stupid little moments, keep smiling—then maybe Asha could keep pretending.

Pretending that she wasn’t something to be feared.

Pretending that she was just a normal, interesting person and not the monster lurking beneath the surface.

But still…

Asha let her phone drop onto the mattress beside her, staring up at the ceiling.

Lucille mostly talked about the vampire stuff—the things she didn’t even know were real. Was that all Asha was to her? A fun little mystery to unravel? A joke wrapped in intrigue?

Her expression darkened.

Would Lucille still laugh if she knew the truth?

Would she still look at Asha the same way if she saw her?

The real her?

The hunger, the violence, the thing beneath the mask?

Asha turned over onto her side, shutting her eyes.

She didn’t want to think about that.

Not tonight.

The next morning, the sun barely crept over the horizon as Asha pulled on her apron and headed to work. The familiar bell above the café’s door chimed as she arrived—the same place where so many moments, both joyful and painful, had unfolded. Today, however, she tried to bury the remnants of last night deep inside, focusing instead on the comforting routine of her shift as a barista.

Inside the café, the air was rich with freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of early customers. Asha greeted her coworkers with a nod and a tired smile. Jasmine was already busy behind the counter, expertly steaming milk for lattes, while Malik rearranged a display of pastries in the window.

“Morning, Asha,” Jasmine called, her tone warm and familiar. “Big day today?”

Asha shrugged, trying to sound light. “Just the usual rush. How about you?”

“Same old, same old,” Malik replied, his voice low and easy. “I heard we might have a celebrity in the house today—someone who loves the vampire vibe.” He winked, a teasing glint in his eyes, though Asha only managed a small smile. That remark brought back memories of last night, but she quickly tucked them away as the café began to fill.

Amid the clink of cups and the hum of conversation, the door swung open with its familiar jingle. Asha glanced up from the espresso machine—and froze for a fraction of a second. There, framed by the morning light, stood Lucille.

Asha’s heart did that familiar skip. Despite all the tension and danger of the previous night, there was a strange comfort in seeing Lucille here, in a place where she had always been part of the scenery—a silent witness to countless mornings and quiet afternoons.

Lucille stepped inside hesitantly, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for a safe haven. Asha couldn’t help but notice that she’d never been seen in the café before. The only time Asha knew of her was the day Asha had introduced her to this very spot, a day brimming with tentative hope and whispered promises. Now, here she was again—quiet, a little withdrawn, and somehow more real.

Asha’s hands paused in mid-air as she poured a shot of espresso. Her mind raced. Should she greet her? Should she act as if nothing unusual was happening? In the depths of her thoughts, Asha recalled the gentle way Lucille had looked at her, the unspoken understanding they’d shared.

Taking a slow breath, Asha set down the portafilter and moved toward the entrance, all the while maintaining the calm professionalism expected of her.

“Good morning,” she said softly as Lucille approached the counter. The warmth in her voice was genuine, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper—a mix of relief, curiosity, and perhaps even an unspoken apology for the night’s harshness.

Lucille offered a tentative smile, one that held a world of unsaid words. “Hi,” she replied quietly, glancing around as if the café were both a sanctuary and a stage.

Asha nodded, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter. “Here you go,” she said. “One latte. Anything else?”

Lucille hesitated, then shook her head. “That’s fine… thanks.”

Behind the counter, Jasmine exchanged a quick, knowing look with Asha—a silent message that everything was as it should be. Malik continued rearranging pastries, blissfully unaware of the storm of emotions swirling between the two.

As Lucille moved to find a seat, Asha’s thoughts churned. The encounter had been brief, but it carried the weight of last night’s unresolved tension and the possibility of something new, something undefinable. Asha wondered if Lucille sensed her protective presence at the café, if she felt the contrast between the harsh world outside and the quiet, almost fragile normalcy within these walls.

Asha returned to her station, her eyes occasionally drifting toward Lucille as she took orders and crafted beverages with practiced ease. With every soft smile Lucille offered from her corner table, Asha’s determination grew. Whatever the future held, whether shadows would continue to lurk in the corners of their lives or a fragile light would break through, Asha was resolved to guard this moment—the promise of connection, however tentative—with everything she had.

And so, as the day unfolded with its quiet conversations and the clatter of cups, Asha found herself balancing between the routine of work and the stirring of something more profound—a longing to be seen, to be understood, and ultimately, to protect the one person who made it all worth it.

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