The grave won't let go
IThe rain had stopped an hour ago, but the cemetery still smelled of wet earth and wilted flowers.
Evie Hart stood motionless before the freshly covered grave.
The dark soil looked wrong.
Too new.
Too real.
A simple headstone stood in front of her, cruelly ordinary for someone who had meant everything to her.
ETHAN HART
Beloved Brother.
The words blurred as tears gathered in her eyes.
It had been three weeks.
Three weeks since the police found Ethan dead.
Three weeks since her entire world had collapsed.
Yet every morning she still expected to hear him knocking on her bedroom door, asking if she wanted coffee.
Every morning she remembered.
And every morning it hurt all over again.
"You've been standing here for almost an hour."
A gentle voice broke through the silence.
Samantha.
Evie glanced over her shoulder.
Her best friend stood beside her holding two paper cups of coffee, her blonde hair dancing in the cold wind.
Samantha offered one.
Evie refused with a small shake of her head.
"You need to eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't been hungry for weeks."
"I'm aware."
Samantha sighed dramatically.
"You know, you're impossible."
A tiny smile threatened to appear on Evie's face before disappearing again.
Her gaze returned to the grave.
"I keep thinking he's going to walk through the cemetery gate."
Samantha's expression softened.
"I know."
"I keep thinking somebody made a mistake."
The silence that followed hurt more than words ever could.
Samantha carefully placed a hand on Evie's shoulder.
"Ethan wouldn't want this."
Evie laughed bitterly.
"Everybody keeps saying that."
"Because it's true."
"He's dead, Sam."
The words came out sharper than she intended.
"He's dead and I'm unemployed and I can't even figure out what I'm supposed to do next."
Samantha rolled her eyes.
"Oh please."
Evie frowned.
"What?"
"You graduated from Oxford University."
"So?"
"So?" Samantha nearly choked. "Do you know how many people would sell their souls for your degree?"
"It doesn't matter if nobody hires me."
"Nobody hires you yet."
Evie stared at the grave.
The future felt like a dark tunnel with no exit.
Once, she had imagined becoming one of the country's best lawyers.
Now she could barely get out of bed.
Samantha nudged her shoulder.
"You'll find a job."
"You sound very confident."
"Because I am."
"Based on what evidence?"
"Because you're Evie Hart."
For the first time that day, a genuine smile appeared.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
Samantha immediately pointed at her.
"There! See? Human emotions."
"Don't ruin it."
"No promises."
The two women left the cemetery .
By the time Evie reached her apartment building, darkness had settled over the city.
Her phone vibrated again.
And again.
And again.
She didn't need to check the screen.
She already knew who it was.
Ryan.
Her ex-boyfriend.
The man she never wanted to speak to again.
The man she blamed for Ethan's death.
The call ended.
Another started immediately.
Evie rejected it.
A second later, the phone rang again.
"Leave me alone," she muttered.
She shoved the phone into her bag and climbed the stairs.
The moment she unlocked her apartment door, shouting exploded through the hallway.
"You never listen to me!"
"Oh, and you do?"
The neighbors.
Again.
Evie dropped her keys onto the table.
"Can you please be quiet for five minutes?" she yelled.
The hallway fell silent.
Relief washed over her.
For exactly seven seconds.
Then the fighting started again.
Louder.
Evie groaned.
"Wonderful."
The apartment looked exactly how she'd left it.
Clothes on the sofa.
Unwashed dishes in the sink.
Books scattered across the floor.
The home she once shared with Ethan now felt hollow.
Empty.
Wrong.
She moved through the darkness until her gaze settled on a closed door at the end of the hallway.
She froze.
Ethan's room.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd opened it.
Days?
Weeks?
Maybe longer.
The door remained closed.
Like a wound she refused to touch.
The apartment suddenly felt colder.
And for the first time that night, an uneasy feeling crawled down her spine.
As if something was waiting behind that door.
As if Ethan had left something unfinished.
Something that wanted to be found.
The next morning, Evie woke up with the same heavy feeling pressing against her chest.
For a few seconds, she stared at the ceiling.
Then reality settled in.
Ethan was gone.
The apartment was a mess.
And she was unemployed.
She turned her head toward the closed door at the end of the hallway.
Ethan's room.
The sight of it hurt.
But for the first time in weeks, another thought appeared.
She couldn't stay like this forever.
Maybe Samantha was right.
Maybe it was time to move forward.
Not forget.
Never forget.
Just... move.
Slowly.
One step at a time.
And finding a job seemed like the best place to start.
Evie sat up and grabbed her laptop.
The screen lit up.
Job applications.
Law firms.
Legal assistant positions.
Corporate internships.
Anything.
Everything.
Hours passed.
Applications turned into rejection emails.
Rejection emails turned into silence.
And silence turned into frustration.
Her phone vibrated.
Ryan.
She ignored it.
A minute later, it rang again.
Ignored.
Again.
Ignored.
Again.
Again.
Again.
By evening, she was ready to throw the phone out the window.
The screen lit up for the twentieth time.
Ryan Calling.
With an irritated groan, she answered.
"What?"
For a moment, there was only breathing.
Then Ryan's voice.
"Evie."
The sound of his voice immediately ruined her mood.
"What do you want?"
"I just want to talk."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"Please."
His voice sounded tired.
Desperate.
"I miss you."
Evie laughed.
A cold laugh.
"You miss me?"
"Evie—"
"No."
"Can you stop hanging up every time I call?"
"Can you stop calling?"
Silence.
Then Ryan sighed.
"I know you're hurting."
"You don't know anything."
"I know I made mistakes."
"Mistakes?"
Evie's grip tightened around the phone.
"Mistakes are forgetting birthdays, Ryan."
"Evie, please—"
"No."
"I loved your brother too."
The moment he said Ethan's name, something inside her snapped.
"Don't."
"Evie—"
"Don't say his name."
Silence.
Then Ryan spoke again.
Quieter.
"I just want you to forgive me."
"That will never happen."
The words landed like a knife.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Ryan's tone changed.
The softness disappeared.
His patience finally breaking.
"Fine."
Evie frowned.
"Fine?"
"You know what?"
His voice hardened.
"Keep acting like this."
"Ryan—"
"Let's see how far you get without me."
She froze.
"What?"
"You heard me."
His laugh was cruel.
Sharp.
"Let's see how long Oxford's golden girl survives without my help."
The words struck deeper than she wanted to admit.
"You don't mean that."
"Really?"
Another laugh.
"Who paid your rent when you couldn't?"
"Ryan."
"Who supported your dream of becoming a lawyer?"
"Stop."
"Who was always there when you needed money?"
"Stop talking."
"Without me, you're nothing but an unemployed graduate with a useless degree."
The line went silent.
Not because Ryan stopped talking.
Because Evie had hung up.
Her hands trembled.
Not from sadness.
From anger.
Pure anger.
Tears burned in her eyes.
Not because she believed him.
Because a small part of her was afraid he might be right.
She looked around her apartment.
The unpaid bills.
The empty refrigerator.
The rejection emails.
Then she looked at Ethan's closed bedroom door.
"No."
Her voice echoed through the room.
"No."
She would not let Ryan be right.
She would not depend on him.
And she certainly would not let him think she couldn't survive without him.
The next week became a blur.
Applications.
Interviews.
Rejections.
More applications.
More interviews.
More rejections.
Day after day.
Until exactly seven nights later.
The city streets glistened from a recent rain.
Neon lights reflected across the pavement.
Evie walked home with another rejection email sitting unread in her inbox.
She was exhausted.
Frustrated.
Ready to give up.
Then something caught her attention.
A black poster attached to an old brick wall.
Unlike the colorful advertisements surrounding it, this one looked strangely elegant.
Almost old-fashioned.
The paper was dark. The lettering silver.
As if it belonged in another century.
Her footsteps slowed.
Then stopped.
The advertisement read:
WANTED
LEGAL COUNSEL
Excellent compensation.
Private clientele.
Discretion required.
Night hours preferred.
Apply by phone.
The number waited beneath the message.
Simple.
Almost inviting.
Yet something about it felt strange. As if the poster were watching her.
A cold breeze swept through the street.
Evie stared at the advertisement.
And for reasons she couldn't explain...
With no other options left, she keeps staring at the advertisement. The paper feels ordinary, but the more she looks at it, the more it feels like it’s quietly pulling her attention back.
After a long moment, she finally exhales and dials the number.
The phone rings.
Once… twice…
Then it is picked up.
“Hello, good evening,” a woman’s voice answers.
It is calm. Soft. Almost politely warm.
For a second, she forgets what she was going to say.
“Hello?” the woman repeats gently, as if smiling through her voice. “How may I help you?”
She quickly straightens herself. “Hi… I saw your advertisement. I was calling about the job.”
“Of course,” the woman replies smoothly. “Thank you for calling. May I know where you saw it?”
“In a newspaper,” she says. “It had this number.”
“Alright,” the woman says softly, not sounding surprised at all. “And may I know your name?”
She tells her.
A small pause follows—not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.
“Thank you,” the woman says. “Tell me, are you currently looking for full-time work?”
“Yes,” she answers quickly. “I really need a job.”
There’s a faint pause on the other end, almost like the woman is choosing her words carefully.
“I understand,” she says kindly. “I’m glad you called at the right time.”
The sentence feels simple… but it makes something inside her hesitate for a second.
“I don’t want to keep you on the call too long,” the woman continues in the same gentle tone. “Let me just check a few details from my side. Would it be alright if I call you back shortly? Just five minutes.”
“Okay,” she agrees, though she doesn’t know why her chest feels slightly tight.
“Thank you,” the woman says warmly. “You’ve been very patient.”
The line disconnects.
She stands there for a moment, still holding the phone, staring at it like it might ring again immediately. Everything sounded normal. Too normal. That’s what makes her uneasy—but she pushes the feeling away.
Three days pass.
She starts thinking it was just another wrong number, another useless lead.
Until the phone rings again.
Same number.
Her heart reacts before her mind does. She answers quickly.
“Hello?”
“Good evening,” the same calm voice returns, soft and composed. “Thank you for waiting.”
She doesn’t speak right away.
“I’ve gone through your details,” the woman continues gently. “We would like to invite you for an interview.”
“Oh…” she says, sitting up straighter. “When?”
A soft pause.
“If it works for you,” the woman replies politely, “you can come tomorrow night at eleven.”
She blinks. “At night?”
“Yes,” the woman says, still calm. “I understand it’s not a usual time. But this is the slot we have available for selection.”
She hesitates. “Is… is there no daytime interview?”
The woman doesn’t rush her. In fact, her tone becomes even gentler.
“I completely understand your concern,” she says. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can note it and see if another arrangement is possible. But I should be honest—this is the earliest available opportunity for this position.”
A silence follows.
Not pressure. Not urgency.
Just waiting.
She looks around her room. Quiet. Empty. The kind of silence that reminds her why she called in the first place.
“I… I’ll come,” she says finally.
A soft exhale of approval.
“Alright,” the woman replies kindly. “We’ll expect you. And please don’t worry too much. Just come as you are.”
The call ends.
She slowly lowers the phone, staring at it.
Nothing about the conversation was wrong.
And yet, she cannot stop thinking about one thing.
Why does a job that sounds so normal… feel like it’s quietly asking her to step into something she can’t see yet?
Evy stood in front of the small mirror, adjusting the collar of her blouse one last time. It was simple but sharp—an off-white shirt tucked neatly into a charcoal skirt, paired with a thin black belt that made her look older than she felt. Her hair was tied back, a few loose strands escaping like they had their own opinion.
Evie stood in front of the mirror for the third time.
She smoothed down the sleeves of her cream blouse and adjusted the collar of her black blazer.
The outfit wasn't expensive. In fact, it was one of the few formal clothes she owned.
But today, it looked perfect.
Today mattered.
Today could change everything.
She picked up her phone and took a quick mirror selfie.
For a moment, she stared at the screen.
The dark circles beneath her eyes were still there.
The sadness was still there.
But there was something else too.
Hope.
A small, fragile hope.
Her phone buzzed.
Samantha: You look gorgeous! Go get that job, Oxford Queen!
A tiny smile appeared on Evie's face.
"Let's hope they think so too," she muttered.
She grabbed her bag, took a deep breath, and left the apartment.
The subway station was crowded.
People hurried in every direction, coffee cups in hand, headphones on, eyes fixed on their phones.
The train arrived with a loud screech.
Evie stepped inside and found an empty seat near the window.
She carefully placed her bag on her lap.
Her fingers tightened around it.
Nervous.
She was nervous.
What if she didn't get the job?
What if Ryan was right?
The thought immediately annoyed her.
No.
She would get a job.
She had graduated from Oxford.
She had worked too hard to give up now.
The train moved forward.
Station after station passed.
She stared at her reflection in the glass.
Then, suddenly, she noticed someone.
Across the carriage.
A man.
Tall.
Dressed entirely in black.
His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his sharp features looked almost unreal beneath the subway lights.
He wasn't looking at his phone.
Wasn't reading.
Wasn't doing anything.
He simply sat there, calmly observing the moving city outside.
For some reason…
Evie looked at him again.
And again.
There was something strange about him.
Not scary.
Not dangerous.
Just…
different.
As though he didn't belong in the crowded subway.
A little girl walked past him and accidentally dropped her toy.
Without a word, he bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to her.
The child smiled.
He smiled back.
A small smile.
A beautiful one.
Evie quickly looked away.
Why was she staring at a stranger?
She was here for an interview, not to admire random handsome men.
A few minutes passed.
The journey suddenly felt longer.
She sighed and reached into her bag.
Her sketchbook.
And her pencil.
Drawing always calmed her nerves.
Without even realizing it, her hand began to move.
A few lines.
The outline of a face.
Dark hair.
Sharp jaw.
Calm eyes.
Her pencil moved faster.
Two minutes later, she blinked.
She had drawn him.
Exactly him.
She stared at the page.
Then at the man.
Then back at the page.
"Oh no."
"What's wrong?"
The deep voice came from beside her.
Evie's head snapped upward.
The man from the opposite seat was now standing next to her.
She nearly dropped her sketchbook.
He looked at the drawing.
Then at her.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"You drew this?"
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
He looked amused.
"I was watching you draw."
"You… were?"
"You finished it in less than two minutes."
He seemed genuinely impressed.
Then he looked at her carefully.
"You notice details people usually miss."
Evie suddenly forgot all about her interview.
Because for some strange reason…
the handsome stranger looked at her as though they had already met before.
Curiosity was a dangerous thing.
Especially when directed at handsome strangers on late-night subways.
Evie looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring.
A moment passed.
Then another.
"You look nervous."
She blinked.
The deep voice came from the man sitting opposite her.
She looked up.
He was looking at her.
Not in an intrusive way.
Just… observing.
"You can tell?" she asked.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
"You're tapping your foot."
She immediately stopped.
Wonderful.
Now she looked ridiculous.
"I have an interview," she admitted.
"At this hour?"
He glanced at his watch.
It was almost ten at night.
"That's unusual."
"I know."
He studied her for a moment.
"Where?"
"A law firm."
The stranger's expression changed.
Only for a second.
A pause.
A flicker of surprise.
Then it disappeared.
So quickly that Evie wondered if she had imagined it.
"I see," he said quietly.
She frowned.
"You look shocked."
"No."
"You definitely looked shocked."
A faint smile appeared.
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps I was surprised."
"Why?"
He looked away toward the window.
"No reason."
For some reason, that answer made her even more curious.
She leaned back in her seat.
"It's strange, I know. A job interview at night sounds like something from a horror movie."
That earned a small laugh from him.
"But I need a job."
"So badly?"
She sighed.
"You have no idea."
He didn't answer.
So she continued.
"I've been looking for work for over a week."
"And this is the first interview?"
"The first one that actually called me back."
He was silent.
"I don't even like it."
"You don't?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know who they are. I don't know why they work at night. I don't know why they need a lawyer specifically."
"Yet you're going."
"Because I'm desperate."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Silence settled between them.
The train rattled softly along the tracks.
Then he asked,
"You're a lawyer?"
"Oxford graduate."
One of his eyebrows rose.
"Impressive."
"It doesn't feel impressive."
"Why not?"
She laughed softly.
Because she was tired.
Because she was exhausted.
Because talking to a stranger somehow felt easier.
"Because my life has been falling apart."
The smile disappeared from his face.
She looked out of the window.
The darkness outside reflected her own expression.
"My younger brother died."
The words felt heavy.
Even now.
"I loved him more than anyone."
Her voice softened.
"I still can't believe he's gone."
The stranger didn't interrupt.
Didn't offer empty sympathy.
Didn't say, Everything happens for a reason.
He simply listened.
And strangely…
that felt nice.
"I know I have to move on," she continued quietly.
"I know he wouldn't want me to stop living."
She swallowed.
"But I don't know how."
Silence.
Then he asked,
"Is that why you're going to the interview?"
She nodded.
"I need to start somewhere."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Long enough to make her nervous.
"And are you interested in this job?"
She laughed.
A genuine laugh this time.
"Not at all."
That surprised him.
"Not at all?"
"Not even a little."
He looked amused.
"I dislike everything about it."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
He leaned back slightly.
"Go on."
She counted on her fingers.
"It's at night."
"Mhm."
"The advertisement looked creepy."
"Mhm."
"I don't know who the employers are."
"Mhm."
"And honestly? The whole thing feels like I'm about to be kidnapped."
He almost laughed.
Almost.
A smile appeared instead.
"I see."
"And if I had any other option, I wouldn't even be on this train right now."
The smile on his face grew.
"You seem very honest."
"I am."
"I like honest people."
She looked at him.
For some reason, the way he said it sounded meaningful.
The train slowed.
A voice announced the next station.
The stranger looked up.
Then he stood.
"This is my stop."
"Oh."
She looked at the station sign.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh."
"What?"
She stood so quickly that she nearly dropped her bag.
"This is my stop too."
For the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.
Then a curious expression crossed his face.
"What a coincidence."
"Apparently."
The doors slid open.
Passengers stepped out.
The two of them exited the train together.
For a few moments, they walked in silence.
Then the stranger stopped.
"So… this is where our paths separate."
Evie nodded.
"I suppose so."
He looked at her for a moment.
As though he wanted to say something.
Then he simply smiled.
"Good luck with your interview, Miss Oxford."
She blinked.
"I never told you my university."
The smile remained on his face.
"Didn't you?"
She frowned.
No.
She definitely hadn't.
Before she could ask another question, he took a step backward.
Then another.
And disappeared into the crowd.
Leaving Evie standing alone on the platform.
Confused.
Curious.
And wondering how a complete stranger knew something she had never told him.
The station was almost empty.
Only a few people remained on the platform.
Following the address on her phone, Evie walked down a narrow street.
The farther she went, the quieter it became.
No traffic.
No music.
No people.
At the end of the street stood an old building.
Its dark stone walls looked ancient, almost forgotten by time.
A silver plaque beside the door simply read:
NIGHTBORN.
No company logo.
No advertisements.
Nothing.
"Well," Evie muttered. "This doesn't look suspicious at all."
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
The inside was unexpectedly elegant.
A large chandelier hung from the ceiling.
Dark wooden floors gleamed beneath the soft lights.
Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
The entire place looked less like an office and more like an old library.
And it was completely empty.
No employees.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Only one person was there.
An elderly woman sat behind the reception desk, knitting something with dark blue yarn.
She looked up.
The moment she saw Evie, her face lit up.
As if she had been waiting for her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed happily. "You're here!"
Evie blinked.
"Um… yes. I came for the job interview."
The old lady smiled so brightly that it caught her off guard.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!"
She put down her knitting.
"Please wait just a moment, dear."
"Sure."
The old woman walked past the reception desk and disappeared through a nearby door.
Evie turned around.
She looked around the strange office.
Ancient paintings.
Old books.
A grandfather clock.
No one.
Absolutely no one.
She frowned.
What kind of law firm was this?
Then she heard a cheerful voice.
"Lovely weather tonight, isn't it?"
Evie jumped.
She spun around.
The old lady was sitting behind the reception desk again.
Knitting.
Smiling.
Exactly where she had been before.
Evie stared.
The knitting needles clicked softly.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The old woman looked up.
"Is something wrong, dear?"
Evie's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
"You…"
"Yes?"
"You were just over there."
The old woman blinked innocently.
"Was I?"
"Yes!"
She pointed toward the door.
"You walked through that door!"
The old woman looked toward it.
Then back at Evie.
"Oh."
A smile slowly spread across her face.
"Did I?"
Evie stared.
The old woman chuckled.
A soft, grandmotherly laugh.
"Perhaps you're more observant than I expected."
"I…"
For the first time since entering the building, Evie didn't know what to say.
The old lady's smile grew.
"Please sit, dear."
"But… how did you…?"
The old woman merely tilted her head.
"Sometimes waiting a few moments can be very surprising."
That was not an answer.
That was definitely not an answer.
Yet the receptionist looked so harmless, so cheerful, that arguing somehow felt ridiculous.
Evie slowly sat down.
The old woman resumed knitting.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Then she smiled at Evie again.
"You won't have to wait long."
For some reason, the way she said it made a chill run down Evie's spine.
As if everyone in this building already knew exactly who she was.
And she was the only person who didn't.
