Part 99
Adrian's learned to measure time differently now.
No more days or weeks — just moments.
Moments when Alex unlocks the door.
Moments when she looks at him like he's something fragile and precious.
At first, her constant presence suffocated him.
Now, he studies it.
He listens to the rhythm of her steps, the sound of the locks turning.
He watches how her tone softens whenever he smiles.
It's all data.
When she brings him food, he thanks her.
When she speaks about his health, he listens.
And when she lingers by the door, hesitant to leave, he says things that make her stay just a little longer.
He's learning her patterns.
Her weaknesses.
Every day, she grows more certain he's accepting her.
And every day, he gets closer to understanding how to leave.
But something in her eyes keeps bothering him — not just obsession, but something lonelier.
It almost makes him feel sorry for her. Almost.
That, he tells himself, is dangerous.
Because pity softens resolve.
And he can't afford that.
So he stays calm, plays his role.
He waits for the moment she trusts him completely — the moment she forgets the locks, the rules, the precautions.
Only then will he move.
And when that time comes…
Adrian plans to make sure Alex never finds him again.