Chapter 24
1786 Words
✨The Echo of His Lips.✨
Flora Pov
Flora noticed it the next morning—not all at once, but in small, unsettling shifts.
She woke with the taste of coffee on her tongue and the memory of a mouth that had been careful with her, and the first thing she thought was not I’m afraid but he didn’t take anything from me. That realization sat strangely in her chest, heavy and warm at the same time.
Before the kiss, Nasir had been many things in her mind: a protector, a shadow with sharp edges, a man who seemed to move through the world without hesitation. Someone dangerous, maybe. Someone she was grateful for—but wary of. He had felt like a presence she could stand near, not something she could touch.
Now she couldn’t untangle him from sensation.
When she washed her face at the small sink, her fingers lingered at her mouth without her permission. The memory returned immediately—the warmth, the steadiness, the way he had paused just long enough to let her choose. That part mattered more than she expected. No rush. No pressure. Just an opening she had stepped into on her own.
It unsettled her.
She had been taught that men took. That affection came with a price she didn’t know how to pay. That attention was a trap disguised as kindness.
But Nasir hadn’t taken anything.
He had waited.
As she dressed, she caught herself wondering what his hands would look like in daylight, whether his voice sounded different indoors, whether that calm certainty softened when he was alone. The thoughts startled her. She pressed them down, annoyed with herself, but they returned anyway—persistent, curious, unafraid.
Walking through the boardinghouse hallway, she noticed how often she listened for footsteps now, half-expecting his. That frightened her more than the watcher had. Depending on someone—even imagining it—felt like stepping onto thin ice.
And yet.
When she passed a mirror near the stairs, she paused. She looked different. Not prettier. Not braver. Just… awake. As though something in her had shifted its weight forward, testing the world instead of shrinking from it.
She remembered the way he had stood between her and the dark without making her feel small. The way his hand had brushed her wrist, not to claim, but to anchor. The way his mouth had been firm without being demanding.
The kiss hadn’t made her feel owned.
It had made her feel chosen.
That was the most dangerous change of all.
Later, sitting on the edge of her narrow bed, she unfolded the map Floyd had given her—creased, smudged, familiar. Before, it had been her lifeline. Routes. Distances. Escape.
Now she found herself wondering where Nasir existed on it. Where his office was. Which streets he walked without thinking. Whether there were places in this town he avoided, or places that softened him.
She snapped the map shut, annoyed at herself.
This is how it starts, she thought. Attachment. Illusions. Trust.
But another thought followed, quieter and harder to ignore:
Or this is how something real begins.
She didn’t know which frightened her more.
That evening, when she stepped outside and saw him across the street—leaning casually against a lamppost, as if he’d been there all along—her heart did something traitorous and bright.
Before the kiss, she would have felt relief.
After it, she felt anticipation.
And as their eyes met, she understood something with startling clarity:
Nasir was no longer just the man who kept the dark at bay.
He was the man who had stepped into her fear—and stayed.
Whether that would save her or undo her, she didn’t yet know.
But she knew this:
She would never look at him the same way again.
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Flora spent the entire day in the apartment doing nothing at all.
Or at least, nothing that looked like anything.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall, then lay back and stared at the ceiling, then paced from window to door and back again. She picked up the small mirror once, studied her mouth as if it might still remember something her mind had imagined.
Her first kiss.
She smiled before she could stop herself.
It kept happening like that—smiles blooming suddenly out of nowhere, soft and foolish and impossible to control. Every few minutes her thoughts wandered back to the alley, to the way the world had vanished, to the sound she’d made when she hadn’t meant to.
To the way she had kissed him back.
That part startled her the most.
Not that he had kissed her.
But that she had wanted it.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which felt warm even now, hours and hours later. She replayed it again and again, every detail sharper each time: the wall cool against her back, the tremble in her knees, the way his mouth had softened when he realized she wasn’t afraid.
She rolled onto her side and hugged a pillow to her chest, grinning like a child who had just discovered a secret.
Sometimes she giggled quietly to herself, then covered her mouth in embarrassment even though no one was there to see.
She wondered what he was doing.
If he was thinking about her too.
If his lips still remembered hers.
The thought made her stomach flutter in a way that felt dangerously close to happiness.
By afternoon she had imagined entire futures.
Him walking her through the town.
Them sitting together in the café again.
Him touching her hand like it meant something permanent.
She didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like.
But she found herself imagining small, ordinary things—him bringing her coffee, teasing her gently, standing beside her in crowds so she wouldn’t feel small.
Things girls thought about when they were in love.
She didn’t realize that was what she was doing.
She only knew that the thought of him made the loneliness soften.
Until evening came.
And he still didn’t come.
The next day was worse.
She woke early, heart leaping foolishly at every sound in the hallway. Every footstep made her sit up straighter. Every knock in the building made her breath catch.
Nothing.
No Nasir.
By the third day, the giddiness had faded into something tight and uncomfortable.
By the fourth, it hurt.
She stopped smiling at nothing.
She sat by the window longer than necessary, watching the street below, pretending she was only curious about the town. But her eyes kept searching the same tall shape, the same familiar walk.
He didn’t appear.
The fifth day, she cried.
Just a little.
Quietly, into her sleeve, so the walls wouldn’t hear.
The fear crept back slowly, insidious and familiar.
Of course he left.
Of course it wasn’t real.
Of course it was just another kindness that disappeared.
She told herself he was busy.
Then she told herself he had forgotten.
Then, worst of all, she told herself she had imagined everything.
That the kiss had meant more to her than it ever had to him.
That maybe he’d only done it because of the danger. Because of adrenaline. Because she had been there.
And now… she was nothing.
By the end of the week, the apartment felt like a cage again.
The silence pressed in the same way it had in her old room back home.
The same lonely echo.
The same feeling of being left behind.
One evening, she sat on the bed with the map Floyd had given her folded in her lap, staring at it without really seeing it.
“I won’t do this again,” she whispered to herself.
She wiped her face, straightened her shoulders.
She would not wait.
She would not sit here and let a man who had vanished decide whether she existed.
She would find work.
She would fill her days.
She would keep busy until the ache dulled and the memory softened into something she could survive.
She nodded once, firmly.
Tomorrow, she would start looking.
The decision steadied her.
Almost.
That was when the knock came.
Three soft knocks.
Careful.
Controlled.
Her heart stopped.
She didn’t move at first. Couldn’t. Every part of her froze, terrified that if she hoped too hard the sound would vanish.
The knock came again.
Her breath left her in a shaky rush.
She crossed the room slowly, hand trembling as she reached for the door. For one awful second she considered not opening it—protecting herself from disappointment.
Then she turned the handle.
Nasir stood in the hallway.
He looked… tired.
Not disheveled. Not careless. Just different. His jaw unshaven, shadows under his eyes, his usual calm pulled tight around something heavy.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
Relief hit her first—hot and overwhelming.
Then pain followed it.
Sharp. Immediate. Unforgiving.
Her chest tightened so hard she could barely breathe.
“You disappeared,” she said before she could stop herself.
Her voice was quiet.
But it broke.
He flinched.
“I—”
“You didn’t come,” she continued, eyes shining now despite her trying to stop it. “Not once. I thought— I didn’t know—”
She swallowed hard, pride finally cracking. “I thought I’d imagined everything.”
Silence fell between them.
He looked at her like he wanted to touch her and didn’t trust himself to.
“I didn’t disappear,” he said quietly. “I stayed away.”
That hurt worse.
“Why?” she whispered.
Because if the answer was because I didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure she could hear it and still stand.
He studied her for a long moment, eyes dark with something she couldn’t read.
“Because,” he said slowly, “if I had come back any sooner, I would have done something I couldn’t take back.”
Her breath caught.
Before she could ask what he meant, he reached into his coat and pulled something out.
A folded piece of paper.
He held it out to her.
“For tonight,” he said. “If you’ll let me.”
She stared at it, heart pounding, fear and hope tangling painfully in her chest.
“What is it?” she asked.
His mouth curved—not teasing, not calm.
Promising.
“A way to apologize.”
She hesitated.
Every instinct warned her.
And every fragile piece of her heart leaned forward.
She took the paper.
And as she looked up at him again, she realized—
Whatever he was about to do…
It was going to change everything.
- Writer
