Chapter 3: A Town Beneath New Light
I woke up to silence.
No footsteps pacing the hallway.
No sharp voice slashing the morning air before I had my first sip of coffee.
And yet... I didn't sleep well.
My dreams were restless.
My heart often raced for no reason.
Sometimes I woke drenched in sweat, haunted by shadows that no longer existed—but still had power.
Waldheim.
A small town, lined with tree-covered streets that led to the edge of the forest.
My new home.
I'd found an apartment tucked just past the final row of houses, close enough to the trees to feel like I could breathe.
The forest was still the only place I felt fully safe. No footsteps there. No shouting. Only leaves and breath.
The people were kind. Too kind.
I wasn't ready.
I didn't trust kindness.
Kindness had once worn a familiar face and kissed me with poison.
At work, I kept everything under control. My tasks. My calendar. My tone.
I was professional. Efficient. Cordial—but never warm.
The team worked well together.
Responsibilities were clear, and communication flowed easily.
Jonas made that possible. He was a brilliant project coordinator—calm, fair, and always present without needing to dominate.
He handled external partners as naturally as he did our internal team. He was precise, patient, and deeply knowledgeable.
Never arrogant.
When we began working more closely on a certain phase of the project, I discovered another layer of him—quiet strength, gentle focus, and clarity.
Deadlines were met. Feedback was integrated. The process felt fluid, even in moments of stress.
And yet...
I sometimes felt his eyes on me. Not in a way that made me shrink, but in a way that made me... notice.
Moments when I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
When I reached for my coffee.
When I adjusted my bracelet.
I wasn't even sure at first. His gaze was never too long. Never heavy.
But I felt it.
And my body... responded.
My pulse would quicken. My knees would soften for half a second. My fingers would press together in a small, unconscious fist.
I kept my face neutral.
Not now. Not yet.
One morning, I stopped into "Mali ritual"—my favorite café on the corner.
I needed coffee like others needed air.
It was the only constant in my morning routine.
The only thing that didn't ask questions.
The barista smiled when she saw me.
"He ordered two," she said.
I blinked. "He?"
"The blond one. With the coat. He said maybe you'd show up. If not, he'd drink both."
I laughed. Truly. For the first time in weeks.
And then I looked away. Warmth bloomed in my chest—and with it, a tight knot in my throat.
Why does this feel good? Why does that scare me?
Outside, Jonas waited with two cups.
He didn't say much. Just handed one to me.
"I didn't want to be pushy," he said. "I just hoped you'd come."
I nodded. Carefully. Slowly.
My fingers wrapped around the warm paper cup like it was the only solid thing in my world.
"You know," I murmured, "I don't drink coffee with just anyone."
His smile wasn't smug. Just... gentle.
A few weeks later, we had our company picnic.
He sat on a blanket under the trees, leaning back, his eyes closed, face turned to the sun.
He looked peaceful.
Like someone who wasn't running from anything.
I watched him from a distance.
My heart tapped against my ribs. I didn't know what to do.
Whether to go to him. Whether to turn away.
He opened his eyes—and saw me.
"Are you stalking me now?" he teased softly.
"I haven't decided yet," I said.
His expression shifted, something more serious entering his gaze. Not intense. Just sincere.
"Lina," he said, "I'm not going to push. Ever.
But... it's good to see you. Just like this."
I couldn't speak.
Every part of me was screaming: Don't trust him.
And yet—another part whispered: Maybe this is safe.
My body trembled slightly. My lips parted.
Then closed again.
And I sat down.
I didn't say anything. But I didn't walk away.