The apartment felt bigger the second the door closed behind him.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
Ivy stayed sitting on the bed for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had been standing, like the air still held the shape of him.
Her body was tired, heavy, but her mind was already running again, moving ahead faster than she wanted.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand.
Once.
Then again.
She reached for it slowly.
Three missed calls.
Four emails marked urgent.
One message from production.
Carnarvon site ready. Final inspection required before arena phase.
Her stomach tightened.
One week.
Only one week left before everything started.
Before he would be there.
Before everyone would be there.
Before she would have to stand in front of them and stop being invisible.
She pushed the blanket aside and stood up, walking to the window where he had been earlier.
The city looked normal.
People going to work.
Cars moving.
Nothing that looked like the beginning of something huge.
She rested her forehead lightly against the glass.
"One more week," she whispered.
The words didn't sound real yet.
She turned back toward the room, reaching for her bag on the chair, already thinking about the flight, the site inspection, the list of things she still had to confirm before the arena phase.
Her hand stopped halfway.
The bag felt too light.
She opened it.
Phone.
Wallet.
Keys.
No laptop.
She frowned, looking around the room as if it might be on the floor, under the chair, anywhere.
Nothing.
Then it hit her.
Her laptop wasn't here.
It was at her place.
On the table.
Still open from last night.
She closed her eyes for a second and let out a slow breath.
"Of course…"
She couldn't go without it.
Everything was on that computer.
Site plans.
Contracts.
Schedules.
Access codes.
Messages from the production team.
Without it, she couldn't check anything in Carnarvon.
She grabbed her jacket and walked out of the apartment, the hallway colder than she remembered.
Outside, the air felt sharp against her skin, waking her up more than coffee ever could.
The street was already busy, people moving like it was just another morning.
No one knew she was about to fly across the country to prepare an event nobody knew she had built.
She pulled out her phone and ordered a taxi.
Pickup confirmed — 3 minutes.
She waited on the sidewalk, arms crossed, her mind replaying the morning without asking permission.
You feel like you're going to disappear if I look away.
Her jaw tightened.
Maybe I already did.
A car pulled up in front of her.
The driver lowered the window.
"Ivy?"
She nodded and got in.
"Where to?"
She gave her address.
"My place first."
The ride felt longer than it should have.
The city passed outside the window in slow, familiar lines, but her thoughts stayed somewhere else.
One week.
Seven days before the arena.
Seven days before he would stand there without knowing.
Seven days before she stopped being invisible.
The taxi stopped in front of her building.
She paid quickly and stepped out, already reaching for her keys.
The apartment was exactly the way she had left it.
Quiet.
Still.
Her notebook on the table.
The blanket on the couch.
And the laptop right where she remembered.
Open.
Screen asleep.
She walked to it slowly, touching the edge of the table before opening it, like she needed a second to switch back into that life.
The screen lit up.
Carnarvon layout.
Camera positions.
Transport routes.
Final validation required.
Arena phase — 7 days.
Her chest tightened.
Not yet.
First she needed to change.
She went to the bedroom, opening the closet, pushing clothes aside until she found what she needed.
City clothes wouldn't work.
She needed something neutral.
Something practical.
Something that didn't look like the person in charge.
Jeans.
Boots.
Simple shirt.
Jacket.
Hair tied back.
No makeup.
Invisible.
She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment.
Same face.
Different life.
"You're a ghost," she whispered.
She grabbed the laptop, slid it into her bag, then turned off the lights and walked back outside.
Another taxi.
Another destination.
Another version of herself.
"Airport," she told the driver when she got in.
The car pulled away from the curb, the city slowly disappearing behind her.
Next stop.
Carnarvon.
And one week closer to the moment where she wouldn't be able to hide anymore.The airport was already busy when the taxi stopped at the terminal.
People moved in every direction, dragging suitcases, talking too loud, rushing like the day had already started without her.
Ivy stepped out, pulling her jacket tighter around her, the laptop bag heavy on her shoulder.
For a second she just stood there, watching the automatic doors open and close, open and close, like a rhythm she had to step back into.
One week.
Seven days.
No more time to hesitate.
She walked inside.
Check-in was fast.
Security even faster.
She barely noticed the people around her, her mind already somewhere else, running lists, schedules, names, things that still had to be checked before the arena phase.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Production.
Landing confirmed.
Vehicle ready at arrival.
Carnarvon transfer scheduled.
She typed a short reply.
On my way.
Nothing more.
No emoji.
No explanation.
Just the version of herself that existed when she worked.
At the gate, she sat near the window, her bag on her lap, fingers resting on the zipper like she needed to make sure the laptop was still there.
Outside, planes were taking off one after another, disappearing into the bright morning sky.
She wondered, for a second, if he was awake yet.
If he had noticed she was gone.
If he even cared.
You feel like you're going to disappear if I look away.
Her jaw tightened.
Too late.
Boarding started.
She stood with the rest of the passengers and walked into the plane without looking back.
The seat felt colder than she expected.
She fastened her belt, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes when the engines started to vibrate under her feet.
The plane rolled.
Accelerated.
Then lifted.
The city disappeared fast.
Buildings turned into blocks.
Blocks into lines.
Lines into nothing.
Only sky.
She opened her laptop once during the flight, just long enough to check the files.
Carnarvon layout.
Arena structures.
Camera towers.
Transport routes.
Security zones.
Everything had to be perfect.
Because once the players arrived, there would be no fixing anything.
She closed the computer again and looked outside.
The land below had changed.
Less city.
More space.
Red earth stretching in every direction, cut by dry rivers and long empty roads.
Australia looked different from the air.
Older.
Rougher.
Real.
The plane landed with a short jolt, the wheels hitting the runway before slowing down.
People stood up immediately, grabbing bags, turning their phones back on, talking like nothing important had just happened.
Ivy stayed seated for a second longer.
One week.
This was where it really started.
When she stepped outside the small airport, the heat hit her right away.
Dry.
Sharp.
Different from the city.
A man stood near the exit holding a tablet, scanning the people coming out.
He looked at her, then at the screen.
"Miss Rose?"
She nodded.
He took her bag without asking and pointed toward the parking area.
"Car's ready. We go straight to Carnarvon."
Outside, a black SUV was waiting, engine running, dust already covering the tires.
She got in the back seat without speaking.
The driver closed the door and started the car.
"About two and a half hours," he said.
"Road's clear."
The airport disappeared behind them almost immediately.
The road stretched forward in a long straight line, cutting through red dirt and low dry grass moving slowly in the wind.
No buildings.
No traffic.
Just space.
Ivy leaned her head against the window, watching the horizon shake in the heat.
Her phone vibrated once in her hand.
She didn't look.
Her mind went somewhere else instead.
His voice.
You feel like you're going to disappear if I look away.
She closed her eyes.
Maybe I already did.
The SUV left the main road after a while, turning onto a narrower track between rock walls and dry trees.
In the distance, the first structures appeared.
Metal frames.
Tents.
Lighting towers.
People moving in the heat.
Carnarvon.
Remote.
Hidden.
Perfect.
The car slowed near the entrance.
Workers were setting cables, carrying equipment, shouting instructions over the wind.
No one paid attention to her when she stepped out.
Exactly the way she wanted.
Invisible.
She looked at the valley for a long moment, the cliffs rising around the site like walls.
One week.
Seven days before the arena.
Seven days before he would stand here without knowing she built all of this.
Seven days before she stopped being a ghost.
She picked up her bag, slid the laptop higher on her shoulder, and walked toward the base camp.
Work first.
Feel later.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew
The moment he arrived here…
nothing would stay hidden anymore.