The Face Of The Past
Rosewood always seemed to breathe differently in the late afternoon.
The sun hovered low, its light warm but subdued, stretching long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Audrey liked this hour best. It felt like a pause between moments, a space where the world didn't demand explanations or strength from her.
She and Alex walked side by side toward the town square, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm. They didn't speak much, but the silence felt companionable rather than heavy. Audrey found herself enjoying the simple things—the sound of birds settling into trees, the smell of bread drifting from a nearby bakery, the way Alex occasionally glanced her way as if checking she was still there.
She was.
She was here. Alive. Healing.
Or so she thought.
A strange tightness settled in her chest without warning.
Her steps slowed.
Alex noticed immediately. "Audrey?"
"I… I think I forgot something," she said, her voice uncertain. She pressed a hand against her sternum, as if that might steady the sudden pounding of her heart.
Alex turned fully toward her. "What did you forget?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. It's stupid. Just a feeling."
Alex didn't dismiss it. "Do you want to head back?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I just need some air."
They turned around, retracing their steps. With every footfall, the pressure in Audrey's chest increased, as though her body were remembering something her mind hadn't yet caught up to.
Then she saw him.
At first, her brain rejected the image. It felt impossible—like seeing a ghost in daylight.
But ghosts didn't laugh.
Brian stood across the street, pretending to scroll through his phone, his posture lazy, familiar, infuriatingly unchanged. The same confident slouch. The same careless grin.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
The world narrowed.
Sound dulled.
Her past wasn't behind her anymore.
It was standing ten feet away.
Alex felt the shift instantly. Audrey's hand brushed his arm, trembling. Her body stiffened like a startled animal.
"Audrey," he said quietly. "What is it?"
She couldn't answer. She couldn't look away.
Brian glanced up.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flashed across his face, followed by something darker—satisfaction.
"There you are," he called out, loud enough to draw attention.
Audrey's knees weakened. Her mind screamed at her to move, to run, but her feet felt rooted to the ground.
Alex stepped forward without hesitation.
He placed himself fully in front of her.
"You need to leave," Alex said, his voice calm, even—but unyielding.
Brian laughed. "And who exactly do you think you are?"
"Someone who knows when a man isn't welcome."
Brian tilted his head, eyes flicking past Alex to where Audrey stood. "Audrey," he called mockingly, "you're really hiding now?"
Audrey swallowed hard. Her voice shook, but she forced the words out. "I didn't ask you to come here."
Brian took a step closer.
Alex adjusted his stance subtly—feet planted, shoulders squared. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't touch Brian.
"That's close enough."
Something in Alex's tone—controlled, measured—made Brian pause.
"You think you scare me?" Brian scoffed.
Alex leaned in just enough that only Brian could hear him. "No. But you should be very careful about what you do next."
For the first time, doubt crossed Brian's face.
People passed by, unaware of the storm standing quietly on the sidewalk. After a tense moment, Brian laughed again, though it sounded forced.
"This isn't over," he said, backing away. "You hear me, Audrey?"
Alex didn't respond.
He waited until Brian turned the corner and disappeared before stepping aside.
Only then did Audrey realize she was shaking.
Her breath came in short bursts, her vision blurring. She hugged herself tightly, as if trying to keep from falling apart.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think he'd—"
Alex turned to her immediately, concern etched deep into his face. "You don't owe him anything. And you don't owe me an explanation."
She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill. "You knew. Didn't you? That something like this might happen."
Alex hesitated.
"Yes," he admitted softly. "I hoped it wouldn't. But I was prepared in case it did."
Her chest tightened. "Prepared how?"
He looked away briefly, jaw tight. "I'll explain. Just… not here."
They walked back to Mrs. Edith's house in silence, though this time Alex stayed closer, his presence solid and reassuring. Audrey felt fragile, like one wrong word might shatter her completely—but she also felt something else.
Protected.
Inside the house, Mrs. Edith took one look at Audrey's face and said nothing—only poured her a cup of warm tea and guided her gently to the sofa.
"Take your time, dear," she murmured.
Alex stood near the window, watching the street, his body tense in a way Audrey hadn't seen before.
After a while, Audrey spoke. "You're not just… a guy who moved here for a fresh start, are you?"
Alex exhaled slowly. "No."
Her heart skipped. "Then what are you?"
He turned to face her fully, his expression serious but gentle. "Someone who's made mistakes. Someone who learned the hard way how dangerous people can be."
She nodded. "And me?"
"You're someone who deserves peace," he said without hesitation. "And I intend to help keep it that way."
Audrey's eyes filled with tears—not of fear, but of something warmer. Something hopeful.
For the first time, she felt that running hadn't been pointless.
That maybe, just maybe, she had run toward something instead of away.
Outside, night settled over Rosewood.
And somewhere not far away, Brian replayed the encounter again and again in his mind—his pride bruised, his obsession sharpened.
He scowled, teeth clenched. "She thinks she can just start over without me? Never
I won't let it happen."
This time, he wouldn't be chased away so easily.