CHAPTER 22 — THE ANNIVERSARY
I woke before the light reached the windows.
My body was frozen. Heavy. Limbs weighted like stone. Every movement felt alien, like it belonged to someone else. It was the same feeling I'd had the first morning I woke in this life—like gravity had tripled while I slept.
I stayed still for a long moment, letting the quiet settle over me. My heartbeat thumped wildly, uneven. My hands were cold, icy against the sheets, as though the chill had seeped into my bones.
I sat on the edge of the bed, feet touching the cold floor. Breathing felt jagged, like I was inhaling shards of glass.
A soft voice cut through the shadows.
"Seraphina."
Julian. His presence was steady at the doorway. Dressed, composed, alert. He didn't step closer. He didn't crowd me. He just stood there, silent, giving me the space I needed. He could feel the weight in the air and he respected it.
"It's today," I whispered.
He didn't say anything. He just stood there, steady, letting the words hang in the air. His presence was enough. Quiet. Solid. A wall I could lean on, even if he had no idea why my voice trembled.
He walked to the window and pulled the heavy curtains aside. The Atlantic stretched gray and restless, waves clashing with low roars. Even the sky seemed heavy, mourning, though Julian said nothing about it.
"The northern estate is secure," he said, voice low, calm, almost gravelly. "Security rotation is active. Vehicles are checked. Everyone is in place. No one leaves the grounds."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt raw.
The paralysis took hold, just as it always did.
I spent the morning in the drawing room. The same one where I had dismantled Elena with cold calculation, but today I was not the hunter—I was prey.
I perched in the armchair, eyes locked on the grandfather clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Every second felt like a hammer striking my chest. My mind ran scenarios like a fast-forwarded film: what if? what if? what if? The terror didn't need a reason—it simply existed, raw, suffocating, endless.
Julian stayed with me. Not hovering. Not distracting. Just present. Laptop open, fingers moving, but his eyes never stayed on the screen. They flicked to me, over and over: checking my color, my breath, the subtle trembling of my hands, the way I sat frozen, every line of tension in my body.
"A sip of tea," he said around noon, breaking the quiet. "At least a sip."
I shook my head.
He set the cup down in front of me anyway. When our fingers brushed, I flinched. That simple touch felt too sharp, too alive, against the numbness that had wrapped itself around me.
"You're shaking," he said softly, thumb brushing my wrist.
"The clock… it moves too slow… or too fast," I whispered. "I can't tell."
I didn't tell him why. I couldn't. He didn't need to know. He only needed to know I was here, and he was here. That was enough.
By noon, the house had gone silent. The servants stayed in the far wing. The security measures were invisible, working like ghosts around the estate. It was just me, Julian, and the relentless ticking of the clock.
I stood and moved to the window. My legs trembled beneath me. My senses were screaming, scanning the horizon for anything out of place. Every sound, every shadow, every slight movement made my chest tighten.
Julian stayed behind me. His body radiated warmth, a wall of protection I could feel even when he didn't touch me. He didn't know what I feared. He didn't know why. But he knew enough to be steady. To be present.
Minutes crawled forward. My breath came in jagged bursts. I imagined every disaster, every calamity that could happen—none of it logical, none of it certain. Just dread, pure and unrelenting. Each second felt longer than the last, stretching into infinity. My body wanted to move, to flee, but my feet stayed rooted.
When I finally spoke, my voice was rough, barely audible.
"Julian…"
"I'm here," he said. Calm. Solid. Unwavering.
Just hearing him anchored me. His presence alone kept the panic at the edge of my vision. He wasn't trying to reason with me. He didn't need to. He didn't need to know the source of my fear. He just needed to be here. And that was enough.
I watched the clock. Every tick made my chest ache. Every minute reminded me of the weight in my body, the tension in my mind, the fear that refused to loosen its grip. My fingers flexed and unclenched, my knees bounced with tension, my jaw clenched over teeth I didn't know I was grinding.
At 12:15 PM, the strangest thing happened: nothing had happened. The day had passed that first, unbearable minute. My body sagged with relief, though uneven, jagged, like shards of ice melting slowly into water. If Julian hadn't caught me, I would have crumpled entirely.
He gathered me against his chest. His arms were strong and firm, almost too tight, almost painful, and yet exactly what I needed. Every line of tension in my body pressed against him, and he held me steady.
"It's okay," he whispered, lips brushing my hair. "Nothing's happening. They're safe. You're safe."
I sobbed into him, tears soaking through his shirt. The paralysis that had weighed on me for hours, maybe even years, was breaking. Tremors ran through me, violent and raw, as if the tension of a thousand fears had finally escaped.
I clung to him, letting the fear bleed into relief. But even as my body loosened, my mind whispered reminders: just because this minute passed didn't mean something couldn't happen later. Unease lingered, subtle but insistent, coiled in the back of my mind.
I pulled back just slightly, searching Julian's face. "I… I can't stop thinking about what could happen next."
He cupped my face, eyes soft and steady. "Then we face it together. Whatever comes, you won't face it alone. I'll make sure of that."
His words anchored me in the present. No past. No memories he couldn't know. Just now. Just us. Just the solid certainty of his body pressed against mine.
The day moved slowly forward. Each hour still bore weight, but I felt the grip of panic loosen bit by bit. Julian stayed close, a constant shadow of protection, silent yet unwavering. He didn't need to know my thoughts, my history, my visions. He only needed to know me in that moment—and that was enough.
By evening, the estate hummed quietly around us. My parents remained safe inside, oblivious to the storm of dread I had carried. Julian didn't speak of threats or strategy. He didn't need to. Every glance, every touch, every steady hand on mine said more than words ever could.
And for the first time in hours, maybe days, I let myself breathe. I let the tension ease just slightly, letting the quiet sink into my bones.
⸻
JULIAN'S POV
She looks like she's carrying the weight of the world before the day even begins.
I can see it in her hands — the slight tremor when she reaches for anything. I can see it in her eyes, darting to the clock again and again, counting seconds as if they were oxygen.
She doesn't tell me why. She doesn't have to. I can feel it anyway.
I've seen fear before. Soldiers breaking under fire. Victims of violence, panic etched into every movement. But this… this is different. She's anticipating something heavy. Something that hasn't happened yet, but presses down on her like a physical weight.
I have never seen anyone like this.
12:13 PM. Her body freezes completely. Chest tight. Eyes wide, staring at nothing and everything at once.
I've dealt with people carrying trauma like armor, but this… she's bracing for a storm I can't see. It's raw, instinctive, deep in her bones.
12:14. Her heart rate spikes. Every beat slams against my palm like a drum of panic.
12:15. She collapses into me, liquid in her bones, trembling as if gravity itself has betrayed her. I hold her tight, her tears soaking through my shirt. Fury rises in me — cold, sharp, uncontrollable. Not at her. Not at the past. At the unseen danger that has left her like this.
Her body finally relaxes slightly, but the tension is still coiled beneath my hands. She is still holding herself tight, still bracing, still waiting for something she can't name.
I don't know what she's imagining. I don't know what she thinks might happen. All I know is that she needs me here, solid and real, and I will not let anything touch her.
The perimeter team just reported a drone sighting.
Nothing has happened yet — nothing real — but the threat is out there. And if it moves toward her, toward her world, it will meet me first.