Author's Note: 

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains depictions of nightmares and gun violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Emilia ran. Her lungs burned, her bare feet pounded against the cold marble floors, but no matter how fast she moved, the footsteps behind her gained. The mansion was endless, its halls stretching into darkness, its mirrors reflecting warped images of herself-frantic, terrified, hunted.

She didn't know how she had gotten here. One moment, everything was fine, and the next, she was trapped in this nightmare where every shadow held a threat. A sickening laugh echoed down the corridor, and she spun, heart hammering against her ribs.

Hallie emerged from the darkness, her emerald green dress shimmering like poison under the dim chandelier light. Her lips curled into a wicked grin, red as blood, eyes gleaming with malice.

"You really thought you could replace me?" Hallie's voice dripped with venom as she took a step forward, a glint of something sharp in her manicured fingers.

Emilia stumbled back, slamming into the wall. "Stay away from me!"

But Hallie only laughed, her fingers tightening around the blade. "Oh, sweetheart. You don't get to just walk away."

A cold breath ghosted over Emilia's neck. She whipped around, and there he was. Chase. His smirk was sharp enough to slice through her. He looked almost amused, twirling a gun between his fingers like it was nothing more than a toy.

"I always liked you better when you knew your place, Em," he said, his tone so casual it sent ice skittering down her spine. "But now? Now you're just making a mess of things."

Her pulse roared in her ears. The walls seemed to close in, mirrors warping their reflections into grotesque distortions. Then, behind them-Henry.

Her stomach dropped. He was caught, struggling in the grip of two faceless figures in black. His golden eyes, usually so full of warmth, now wide with horror as he fought to break free.

"Let him go!" Emilia screamed, pushing past her fear, pushing past Hallie-

Glass shattered as she slammed Hallie into the mirror, the actress shrieking as shards sliced through silk and skin. But the victory was short-lived.

The click of a gun being cocked snapped her head back toward Chase.

"No!" she gasped as Chase pressed the barrel against Henry's temple.

"Oops," Chase whispered, grinning.

The shot rang out like a thunderclap.

Emilia's scream tore through the mansion-

And she jolted awake.

Her breath came in ragged, gasping pulls, her hands shaking violently as she clutched at the sheets. Her body was damp with cold sweat, her heart a wild, caged thing in her chest.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

Her wide, tear-brimmed eyes darted around her bedroom, searching for any trace of them. The darkness was thick, shadows stretching across her walls, but they weren't there. Chase wasn't there. Hallie wasn't there.

She forced herself to take a breath, then another, willing her pulse to slow.

Her eyes flicked to the alarm clock.

6:34 AM.

Too early. Too late. It didn't matter. Sleep wouldn't come again.

With a shaky exhale, Emilia threw the covers off and forced herself out of bed. The floor was cool beneath her feet as she trudged to the bathroom, stripping down and stepping into the shower. The scalding water poured over her, washing away the sweat, but not the lingering fear curling in the pit of her stomach. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Chase's smirk, Hallie's venomous glare, the sound of the gunshot echoing in her ears.

After drying off, she wrapped herself in a soft robe and padded to the kitchen, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepared a cup of chamomile tea. The warmth of the mug against her palms was grounding, but the nightmare still clung to the edges of her thoughts like cobwebs she couldn't shake.

Needing a distraction, she curled up on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through channels until she landed on some trashy reality show. It was mindless, ridiculous-the perfect antidote to the darkness in her head. But even as she watched contestants argue over trivial things, her mind kept drifting back. To the nightmare. To Chase. To Henry.

She checked the clock again. 6:48 AM. Time crawled.

She took another sip of tea, pulling her legs up under her. Maybe by the time the sun fully rose, she'd be able to shake this feeling. Maybe.

Henry stretched, feeling an easy warmth settle over him as he woke. His dreams had been pleasant, filled with the sound of Emilia's laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him. If this was what mornings felt like with her in his life, he could get used to it.

Rolling out of bed, he ran a hand through his tousled hair and made his way to the bathroom, humming to himself. His morning routine was second nature-he shaved, lathering up his face with care before rinsing clean. Then, stepping into the shower, he let the hot water loosen his muscles, waking him up fully.

Feeling playful, he belted out Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls, the words bouncing off the tiles.

"And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand..."

By the time he was out, towel slung around his waist, he felt completely refreshed and ready to start the day.

Picking up his phone, he grinned as he typed out a message to Emilia. He hit send, excitement thrumming in his chest. Today was going to be a good day. No, a great one.

Emilia's phone buzzed, pulling her away from the mindless drama unfolding on the TV. She glanced at the screen and couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

Henry: Good morning, beautiful. I'm on my way. Hope you're ready for me, because I've been counting down the minutes to see that smile again.

A warmth bloomed in her chest, pushing away the remnants of her nightmare. He had a way of doing that-turning even the darkest of mornings into something light and hopeful. She tucked her legs under her and typed back.

Emilia: Good morning, charming. You've been counting down the minutes? Cute. I'm flattered.

She smirked and added, So... where exactly are you whisking me away to now?

The typing bubble appeared immediately, and she waited, curious.

Meanwhile, Henry stood in a quaint little flower shop, inhaling the faint scent of fresh roses and lilies as he carefully selected a bouquet. His fingers traced over delicate sprigs of purple lilacs before he made his choice-yellow roses, the ones that meant 'I remember.'

He typed back as he paid for the flowers.

Henry: Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it? But since you're so curious... picture this: A charming café with the best breakfast in town, an ambiance so perfect it practically begs for stolen glances over coffee cups, and-just maybe-a ridiculously handsome man sitting across from you, absolutely captivated by your presence.

Emilia laughed, rolling her eyes.

Emilia: You better not mean your house. I know how you rich guys operate.

Henry grinned as he stepped outside, bouquet in hand.

Henry: Damn. My secret's out. I guess I'll just have to win you over with food instead.

Emilia: Smart move. I do like food.

Henry: And I like you. So it all works out.

Emilia bit her lip, shaking her head. He was smooth-annoyingly so-but it was impossible not to be charmed by it.

A few minutes later, Henry's car pulled up in front of her house. He adjusted his collar, making sure everything was perfect before stepping out with the flowers. Instead of knocking right away, he held them directly in front of the peephole and called out, "Before you open this door, just know that I come bearing gifts. And if you don't answer, I might just have to serenade you right here on your front porch."

Emilia snorted from the other side, pressing her forehead against the door for a second before shaking her head. "That so? What's stopping me from making you prove it?" she teased through the wood.

Henry smirked. "Oh, you don't want to unleash this level of romance before breakfast, Em. It's dangerous."

She rolled her eyes, unlocking the door and pulling it open, her expression caught between amusement and disbelief as she took in the sight of him standing there, grinning like a fool, flowers still raised like an offering.

"You're ridiculous," she said, but her smile was undeniable as she leaned against the doorframe.

"And yet, you like me anyway."

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "The jury's still out."

Henry chuckled, extending the flowers to her. "Well, maybe these will help sway the verdict."

Emilia took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his as she did. "Yellow roses?" she mused, lifting them to her nose. "Let me guess. They mean something dramatic."

Henry's gaze softened. "They mean 'I remember.'"

Her breath hitched just slightly, and for a moment, the air between them shifted, something unspoken lingering in the quiet. Then, she arched a brow. "Smooth."

He grinned. "I try."

She shook her head, stepping back. "Come on in. Let me put these in water before we go."

As he followed her inside, Henry couldn't help but think that no dream could compare to this-to her.