A dream

The city outside was still, washed clean by the night’s rain, with puddles gleaming under dim streetlamps. In his apartment, the silence was interrupted only by the faint tick of a wall clock. Adrian Rook lay motionless in bed, muscles tense even in sleep.

But his mind was far from still.

“Tell me…”

The voice came again.

“Tell me you won’t leave me. Right?”

She stood in the middle of a rain-slick street. Her coat clung to her like second skin, soaked and trembling. Her eyes—dark, desperate—cut through the fog.

He took a breath, as if to answer.

Crash.

Tires skidded.

A scream swallowed by thunder.

A flash of headlights.

She disappeared.

He rose without hesitation, the haze of sleep giving way to sharp instinct. He pulled on a sweatshirt and crossed to the living room, where the case file still sat open. The murder from two nights ago—unsolved. Woman found dead on a side street, no witnesses, no motive, no ID until forensics helped them piece together scraps.

He flipped through the folder.

Victim: Julianna Reeve

Occupation: Journalist

Status: Orphan

Relationship status: Unmarried

And a note from his assistant:

“Close with a professor from Halridge University. One Dr. Evelyn Mireille.”

He turned to the attached profile.

The photo struck him like a blow to the gut.

Dr. Evelyn Mireille. Age: 26. Department of Criminology. Also an orphan. Lived alone. Reserved. Brilliant.

Her face…

It was her. The woman from the dream.

Same hair. Same eyes. Same haunting expression—half fear, half longing.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tightening around the file edges.

What the hell is going on?

---

By sunrise, Adrian hadn’t slept.

The morning air was crisp, the streets starting to buzz as he walked into the station, hands buried in his coat pockets. He looked like a man pulled straight from a noir film—stern, sleep-deprived, and locked in his own mind.

His assistant, was already sipping a cup of watery coffee when Adrian called out.

“ Neil, We’re heading out.”

The young man blinked. “Where to, sir?”

“University. I need to speak with Dr. Evelyn Mireille. She might be the key to this case.”

Nile said" Yes sir "and they both started towards university.

----

At the same time in the The lab smelled of sterilized steel and cold air. Machines hummed softly in the background. Cambria Vale stood near the center counter, her arms folded, eyes scanning the white-walled space like a queen bored of her court.

She checked the time. Again.

“He’s late,” she muttered.

The door finally opened, and in walked Dr. Nolan Virek—white coat slightly wrinkled, face unreadable as always.

Cambria let out an exaggerated sigh. “The man, the myth, the slowest forensic doctor in the city.”

Nolan raised a brow. “You’ve been waiting long?”

“Only long enough to wonder if you were out back, dissecting your social life.”

He didn’t respond, just walked to his desk.

She followed behind him. “I had an interesting client today. Pregnant woman. Wanted to file a complaint against the mysterious father of her unborn child—some guy named Dr. Nolan, ring a bell?”

He didn’t even blink. “Was her name Cambria by any chance?”

She grinned. “You wish.”

Nolan pulled open a drawer. “What do you want?”

“My mentor asked me to collect a report. A suicide case file—your lab processed it this week. Said it’d be ready today.”

Without looking up, he handed her a thin file. “This is it.”

She took it, casually flliping the other file on the desk. Her eyes scanned the contents—details, names, codes—until one line made her pause.

“Julianna Reeve?” she asked. “The woman found dead in West Street during that storm?”

Nolan’s jaw twitched, but his voice stayed flat. “That file isn’t for you. You’re only here to collect the report your mentor requested.” He took it from her hand.

Cambria raised a brow. “It is just a file, Nolan. I just asked.”

He looked up, eyes cold. “And I just answered. Don’t push it.”

She stared at him for a second, then slowly closed the file.

“Touchy,” she said lightly. “Alright. I’ll pass it on.”

She turned to leave, but with her hand on the door, she tossed one last smirk over her shoulder. “By the way... if I ever do file a case against you, it won’t be for pregnancy fraud. It'll be for having the emotional range of a spoon.”

Nolan didn’t move. “Good day, Cambria.”

She stepped out of the lab with a low chuckle.

He watched the door for a moment… then turned back to his screen. But his fingers had stopped typing.

---

To be countinued.........

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