The walk lasted longer than he intended.
He didn’t time it. Didn’t map it. Just let Kiro pull him east, then north, then through streets that felt less familiar the farther he went.
The air helped. Movement helped. The silence helped.
By the time they circled back toward the apartment complex, the sun had shifted low enough to flatten the buildings into long shadows. Kiro’s tongue hung loose. Mark’s thoughts had slowed into something almost manageable.
Almost.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. No hesitation. No pause.
The apartment smelled the same. Cool drywall. Dust. The faint trace of detergent from somewhere in the hall closet. Nothing metallic. Nothing disturbed.
Kiro walked in first. Gave the room a lazy half-glance. No hackles. No alert.
Mark closed the door behind him. The latch clicked.
He stood still for a moment.
Not scanning. Just letting his eyes adjust.
Everything looked normal.
The couch hadn’t shifted. The coffee table was where it always was. The thermostat display was dark like it had been earlier. No lights blinking. No shadows wrong.
He rubbed his wrist where his watch usually was. It felt strange not wearing it. He walked over to his desk and stopped after a step.
It wasn’t where he’d left it.
“I left it ON the charger” he paused “Or did I?”
He walked over and picked it up. The screen was black.
“It lost 10% doing…nothing?”
He turned it once in his fingers, thumb brushing the side button without pressing it. The metal felt cool. Unremarkable.
Putting it back on the charger making sure he aligned it perfectly.
Straight. Centered. Flush. He adjusted it once more by a millimeter.
“What is actually happening here?”
He bent down to unclip Kiro’s leash.
“Good walk,” he muttered.
Outwardly Mark was keeping his cool no one would have guessed that inside, something else stirred. It moved like a ripple under glass.
“If something IS happening I need to act like I did not notice.”
Mark stopped and chuckled to himself
“What the hell do you think happened? You are inventing something out of nothing because you are bored. You or Kiro bumped the desk. That is all, calm down.”
He continued to the kitchen, opening the fridge. The light held steady. He grabbed a bottle of water, closed the door and took a drink.
The words came back.
“You or the dog bumped the table. That is, most likely, what happened.” He reasoned.
Memory had gaps. Entire months missing. Details slipping through fingers he didn’t know he was clenching.
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The doctor had explained that. Recovery wasn’t linear. Minor distortions were common.
“Minor distortions.”
He leaned against the counter.
“The real question is why am I fixating on this? Why does any of this matter?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why are you still thinking about it?”
“Because it moved.”
“This again? It moved, so what? You’re bored. You’re restless. That’s all.”
The kitchen felt small suddenly. Not threatening. Just… compressed. He set the water down. Walked back into the living room.
The watch sat quietly on its base, charging light faintly glowing now. Innocent. He stared at it. Just long enough to be aware that he was staring. Then he looked away.
“Am I being watched?”
The thought came fully formed this time. Clear. Calm. Not dramatic. Just a question. His jaw tightened just for a second.
“You’ve officially crossed from slightly paranoid to fully insane. Who would want to watch a person like me? I am not important. Hell, I don’t even know who I am or who I…was.”
“Who you were? Really? You were not that interesting before the accident. You are even less interesting now. You really need to get a grip on this. The watch was exactly where it was when you left. Can we please just move on?”
He walked to the window. Pulled the curtain aside an inch.
The parking lot sat half-empty. A sedan. A pickup. Nothing idling. No unfamiliar shapes.
He let the curtain fall.
“This is what happens when you’re alone too long. Your brain makes stories.”
But the certainty wouldn’t fully dissolve. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t fear. It was a quiet, grounded knowing that someone was here. Not boredom. Not emotional. Not paranoid. Just… true.
He exhaled slowly.
“I am bored.” He said out loud
Is that what this is?
He moved to the couch and sat down. Kiro settled at his feet immediately, resting his chin on Mark’s shoe like nothing in the world had shifted.
“If someone was here,” Mark murmured under his breath, “you’d know.”
Kiro didn’t move. No alert. No tension. Just calm.
“See? You’re spiraling.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes. The migraine didn’t come. That was almost worse. He wanted the pain. Pain would make it real. Pain would explain the distortion. Instead there was only clarity. Clarity and doubt.
“Where is she?”
The thought cut through the rest. Vanessa should have called by now. She always called. Even when she said she wouldn’t. Even when she was traveling. She checked in. He glanced at his phone on the coffee table. No missed calls. No new messages. He picked it up. Held it in his hand. The urge surprised him. Not anger. Not suspicion. Something softer.
“I need to hear her voice.”
That irritated him.
“Why?”
“Because when things feel wrong, she makes them feel structured. Because she explains things. Because she reminds you what’s real. Because without her—.”
He unlocked the phone. Opened their message thread. Scrolled. Nothing recent beyond her travel note. He hovered over the keyboard. Didn’t type.
“What would you even say? Hey, I think someone moved my watch? You sound unstable. You sound fragile. You sound exactly like someone who needs supervision.”
That thought landed hard. He swallowed. He didn’t want supervision. He just wanted… grounding.
He tapped CALL. The ring felt louder than usual. He almost hung up before it connected. It clicked. A breath. Then her voice.
“Hey babe.”
Soft. Immediate. Not rushed.
“You okay?”
He hadn’t prepared anything, just stared at the watch across the room. Charging light steady.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice came out even. “I just—”
He stopped.
“Just what?” Vanessa asked.
“Missed you? Felt weird? Thought someone was in my apartment? Are currently having a meltdown over a slightly moved watch?” A rare look of discomfort came to Mark's face for a moment then just as fast as it had come it was gone.
“I just wanted to hear you,” he finished.
Silence on the other end.
Not suspicious. Measured.
“I was about to call you,” she said gently. “How was the walk?”
He leaned back into the couch and watched the faint glow on the watch face.
“Long,” he said. “Good.”
And the question stayed in his chest, unspoken.
“Did someone come into my home?”
But he didn’t ask it. Not yet. Because if she laughed softly and said he was overthinking—He might believe her. And a part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to.
