Ryan stepped out of the Blue Lily Café, the crisp night air doing little to cool the fire of fascination burning within him. His mind replayed the night, every flicker of emotion on Emily's face, every unspoken word laced between their conversations. He had seen the shift—had felt it. The girl sitting across from him hadn't been the same from start to finish.
And that only intrigued him more.
Emily wasn't just anyone. She wasn't predictable, nor was she easily understood. There was something fractured beneath the surface, something delicate yet unyielding. And he needed to know more.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he made his way down the street, his next steps already forming in his mind. He needed to be careful, to move at the right pace. She was cautious, guarded—but not unreachable.
His first move? Contact. Direct contact.
Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he landed on a familiar name. Kia. Emily's best friend. A vibrant, talkative girl who would unknowingly hand him exactly what he needed.
Ryan: *Hey, Kia. Had a great time at the café tonight. Wanted to ask—can i have Emily's number? Would love to reach out to her directly.*
He hit send and smirked to himself. Kia wouldn't question it. Not yet. She had been friendly enough with him earlier, chatting about Emily without a second thought. And Emily? She wouldn't suspect a thing.
Not when he was playing the part so perfectly.
As he walked, he pulled up a search engine and typed in the words that had been circling his mind all night.
*Dissociative Identity Disorder.*
The moment Emily had switched, he knew. He saw the flicker of something—someone—else in her gaze. She had tried to hide it, but he had caught it. And now? Now, he needed to understand it.
Not to help her. Not to comfort her.
But to know exactly how to get closer without her ever suspecting what was lurking beneath his carefully crafted mask.
The game had begun.
And Ryan never lost.