Lynn's POV
It started again.
That feeling—like a string pulled taut behind your ribs, like air moving in a room that should be still. That someone's watching.
Not just anyone. Him.
I was running sparring drills, sweat dripping down my temple, when it hit me. That tug in my peripheral vision. The exact kind of sensation you can't prove, but your instincts scream trust it.
I turned mid-step, glancing toward the bleachers.
There—just for a second.
A figure. Lean, still. Arms folded across the chest. Dressed in dark clothes. Face shadowed, but unmistakable. It was him.
Aether.
Gone in a blink.
"Lynn!" barked my instructor, snapping me back. "You're wide open—focus!"
Right. Focus. I blocked a kick just in time, shaking out the thought, but every fiber of me stayed on edge the rest of the session.
Later, when training wrapped up, I limped toward Rosa at her usual perch on the bench. She'd been there since the start—barely paying attention, curled up with her phone like watching my footwork might give her secondhand muscle cramps.
"You alright?" she asked, handing me my water. "You looked like you saw a ghost during that last round."
"Did you… see anyone? Watching from the side wall?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but I knew my voice cracked near the end.
Rosa blinked. "Girl, there's no one watching in the bench besides me."
I stared past her, scanning the same empty space.
"I knew he was Aether," I muttered under my breath.
She turned fully toward me. "Wait. You saw him again?"
"I think so," I murmured. "Just for a second."
Rosa stared. Then she snorted. "You are so delusional. Is he that handsome?"
I didn't answer.
Which, obviously, was an answer.
The next few days blurred together in a haze of kicks, bruises, and repetition. With the tournament coming, my body moved on autopilot—but my eyes never stopped scanning the edges of the gym.
Rosa noticed. She had, predictably, made things worse.
"I brought binoculars," she whispered one practice. "In case your 'phantom prince' shows up again."
I kicked a pad hard enough to make our assistant coach flinch.
"Okay, that's a yes. Confirmed, your crush makes you stronger. Use that," Rosa said, nodding solemnly. "Weaponize your thirst."
I nearly choked on my gumshield.
The night before the tournament, I barely slept. I stared at the ceiling, picturing his posture, the faint shadow of his jawline, the flash of his boots. Imagining how someone could be everywhere and nowhere at once.
Tournament day was a blur of uniforms, buzzy microphone announcements, and athletes pacing like caged lions. The mats gleamed beneath the ceiling lights, every square foot filled with tension.
I was up. My name was called. I bowed. I fought.
Round after round.
Each opponent more intense than the last.
By the time I reached the finals, my body was trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. Every nerve sharp. Every movement calculated.
He could be watching.
And I wanted him to see this.
The final bout stretched like slow-motion cinema. My opponent was fast, aggressive—but I was focused. No distractions. No ghosts.
I landed the final strike clean. Her guard broke. The ref blew the whistle.
It was over.
Champion.
The crowd blurred into a collective cheer. I stumbled back, the roar around me muffled and distant.
And then I saw it again.
That familiar silhouette—dark hoodie, tall frame—moving along the edge of the crowd. Just beyond the barrier tape. Not facing me, but unmistakable.
No time.
I bolted.
Skated past the official offering me a medal. Sidestepped my coach's outstretched hand.
"Wait!" I shouted, weaving through people, scanning, heart racing.
The hoodie disappeared around the corner of the hallway.
My lungs burned. I pushed harder.
I turned the corner—
Empty.
Gone again.
I stopped, panting, sweat dripping into my eyes. My fists clenched so hard they trembled.
Footsteps approached behind me.
"Lynn!" Rosa's voice called out, breathless. "Dude—what the hell? You just ditched your medal ceremony!"
"I saw him," I said, chest heaving. "Again."
She paused beside me, looking around. "Okay. I believe you now."
I glanced at her.
Rosa crossed her arms, scanning the hall like she could spot him with willpower alone. "Either that, or I've caught your delusion."
I gave a humorless laugh.
The hallway stretched out in front of us. Empty. Quiet.
But I knew I wasn't imagining it.
He was real.
And one day, I'd catch him before he slipped away. Just once. Long enough to ask: Why me? Why then?
And why does he keep coming back… only to disappear?