Chapter 2 Chapter Two: Just a Dream
Rowan Vance woke up before her alarm.
That alone was unusual.
Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, staring at the faint gray light filtering through her blinds. The room was caught in that in-between space where night hadn’t fully let go and morning hadn’t quite arrived. Shadows lingered in the corners, soft but present.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for her phone.
Didn’t roll over and groan like she normally did.
She just lay there.
Listening.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the normal kind of quiet she was used to. Not the low hum of early morning, not the distant sounds of neighbors starting their day. This felt… held. Like the silence itself was waiting.
Her chest rose and fell slowly as she tried to place the feeling sitting heavy in her stomach.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Just… wrong.
Subtle.
Persistent.
Like something had shifted just slightly out of place and her body had noticed before her mind caught up.
Her fingers twitched slightly against the sheets, the fabric cool beneath her skin. She focused on that. The texture. The weight of the blanket. The steady rhythm of her breathing.
Grounding.
Real.
Still, the feeling didn’t fade.
Her alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., loud and sharp, cutting through the silence like it always did.
She flinched.
Actually flinched.
“Jesus,” she muttered, her voice rough with sleep as she fumbled for her phone. It buzzed against the nightstand before she grabbed it, silencing the noise.
The sudden quiet that followed felt heavier than before.
Her hand lingered there for a second, fingers curled around the edge of the device.
There was something she was supposed to remember.
She knew it.
It hovered just out of reach, like a word on the tip of her tongue, close enough to feel but not enough to grasp.
Her brow furrowed as she pushed herself upright, dragging a hand down her face in an attempt to shake it loose.
“What was that dream…”
The words came out quiet, uncertain.
It had been vivid.
She knew that much.
Not the kind that faded the second you opened your eyes. The kind that stayed with you. Left an imprint. A feeling that clung even when the details slipped away.
Something about…
Her front door.
Someone knocking.
Rowan stilled.
The thought landed harder than it should have.
A flicker of something passed through her chest, quick and sharp. Not quite panic, but close enough to make her pause.
Her eyes moved, almost without thinking, toward the door across the room.
Closed.
Locked.
Exactly how it should be.
The sight of it should have been reassuring.
It wasn’t.
“Okay,” she whispered, the word barely audible as she exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. “Yeah. Just a dream.”
She stayed there for another second, watching the door like it might do something unexpected if she looked away.
It didn’t.
Nothing moved.
Nothing changed.
The apartment remained still.
Normal.
Rowan pushed the thought aside, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the floor, the cold surface grounding her instantly.
Cold floor.
Real.
Morning light.
Real.
The faint hum of electricity from somewhere in the apartment.
Also real.
She stood, stretching slightly, letting the motion pull her fully into the present. Routine took over from there, automatic and familiar. Bathroom. Brush teeth. Hair pulled back without much thought. Movements she had done so many times they didn’t require attention.
Still, that feeling lingered at the edges.
By the time she reached the kitchen, the apartment had started to feel more like itself again. Less suspended. Less… off.
Coffee brewing.
The low, comforting sound of it filled the space.
She leaned against the counter, arms loosely crossed, letting the warmth and scent settle around her. It helped. Enough that she could pretend everything was fine.
Toast popped up from the toaster.
Too dark.
She stared at it for a second before letting out a small breath.
“Of course.”
She had forgotten about it.
She scraped the worst of it off with a knife, more out of habit than necessity, then set it aside.
Her phone buzzed again.
Calendar reminder.
She picked it up, glancing at the screen.
8:00 AM - Work
Normal.
Everything is normal.
The thought came quickly, almost automatically, like something she had trained herself to say when things didn’t quite line up.
She unlocked her phone and opened her email, thumb scrolling through the inbox out of routine more than anything else.
Vendors.
Updates.
Internal threads.
The usual flood of information waiting for her attention.
Nothing unusual.
No weird RFQs.
No late-night messages.
No gaps.
Her shoulders relaxed without her realizing it.
The tension she hadn’t fully acknowledged eased just slightly.
“See?” she muttered to herself, setting the phone down as she reached for her coffee. “You’re fine.”
The words sounded convincing enough.
Even if they didn’t fully land.
She moved through the rest of her morning quickly after that, slipping into the rhythm of getting ready. Bag packed. Laptop checked. Keys gathered from the counter where she always left them.
Routine.
Reliable.
Predictable.
By the time she reached the door, the dream had already started to fade.
Not completely.
But enough to ignore.
Her hand wrapped around the handle, pausing just for a second before she turned it.
She didn’t think about it.
Not consciously.
But something in her hesitated anyway.
A small, instinctive pause.
Then she opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.
She pulled it shut behind her and locked it, the click echoing softly in the quiet space.
Her hand lingered on the handle for a second longer than necessary.
Then she let go.
And walked away.
