At Denton General Hospital—

“Name.”

“Nora Trent.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“What symptoms?”

“I’ve been having headaches. Sometimes I see things—hallucinations, I guess—and I feel like someone’s watching me.”

“There’s something wrong with your mind. Let me fix it for you,” the doctor in the white coat said with a twisted grin.

He lifted a buzzing chainsaw from behind his back and brought it down toward my head—

…

“Ah!” I jerked upright with a scream.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my temples.

What met my eyes, though, was my own bedroom—familiar down to every corner. Just a dream.

But that dream was a hell of a reminder: I was supposed to go to the hospital today and get my head checked.

Lately, for no clear reason, my head had started to hurt more and more often. On top of that, I kept feeling like someone was spying on me from behind. I’d been stuck in this paranoid state for days. With no better option, I finally decided to see a doctor.

Denton General Hospital was the best hospital in our area, and the subway ride there took less than an hour. Like always, I passed through security, scanned my phone to enter the station, and found an empty seat.

I hadn’t slept well, so I rested my arm on the metal rail and leaned my head against it, drifting in and out.

A few minutes later, a woman and her little boy came in and sat down across from me.

For some reason, the kid kept staring at me. The feel of his eyes pinned on me made my skin crawl.

Any trace of drowsiness vanished.

“Excuse me, could you please ask your child not to stare at me like that?” After being stared at for several stops, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“What’s your problem? My kid can look wherever he wants. It’s none of your business.” The woman pulled her son closer, eyeing me like I was some kind of threat.

“Mom, this lady smells like blood,” the boy said, pointing at me with his small finger, his voice soft and clear.

He wasn’t loud, but everyone in the car heard him.

People instinctively shifted away from me, putting distance between us. Their expressions were tense, wary, as if they were afraid I was carrying something filthy that might rub off on them.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t just say stuff like that.” His words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to sound calm.

I wasn’t hurt. I hadn’t touched anything bloody. Where the hell would a smell of blood come from?

At the next stop, the woman hurried off the train with her son in her arms. As the doors slid shut, I saw the boy still staring at me, his gaze locked on my face.

Had I really picked up something…bad?

No. No way. I was a firm materialist; I didn’t believe in supernatural crap.

Lost in these pointless thoughts, I almost didn’t notice we’d reached my station.

I got off quickly, suddenly desperate to find out what was wrong with my head.

Strangely enough, maybe because I was so distracted, it felt like I’d barely walked a few steps before the hospital rose up in front of me.

I’d already made an appointment online, so I went straight to the kiosk, printed my number, and took a seat to wait.

“Patient number thirty-six, please proceed to Examination Room Six.” The robotic voice echoed through the waiting area.

I glanced down at my slip. My turn.

My headache was getting worse by the minute as I hurried to Room Six. I needed help. Badly.

“Name.”

“Nora Trent.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-eight.”

“What symptoms?”

“I’ve been having headaches, and sometimes I see things. I get the feeling someone’s watching me.”

The exchange was almost identical to what had happened in my dream. I half expected the doctor to suddenly pull out a chainsaw from behind his chair.

But unlike in my nightmare, the doctor in front of me remained patient, asking carefully about my recent life, my stress levels, any psychological issues.

I answered everything one by one, and he took notes the whole time.

“Miss Trent,” he said at last, “my preliminary assessment is that you’re experiencing some mental health issues. I’ll prescribe you a sedative to help calm your nerves. Take it exactly as directed, and do not, under any circumstances, exceed the dosage.”

“If you have any issues after this, you can contact me directly. This is my card.” He handed me a business card. The name printed on it read: Wade Nash.

“Okay, okay. Thank you, Doctor.”

As soon as I had the prescription in hand, I went to pick up the medicine. Before I even left the hospital, I followed the doctor’s instructions and swallowed a pill.

My head hurt so damn much.

A faint sweetness spread across the tip of my tongue. I hadn’t expected the pill to be sweet, like candy.

After I took it, the pain eased a little, but I could still feel someone watching me.

Maybe the medicine just hadn’t fully kicked in yet, I told myself.

“Nora Trent, over here!” My best friend, Yara Flynn, spotted me from a distance and waved me over.

It was the weekend. My plan was to see the doctor first and then go out with Yara. She knew what I’d been going through lately and had been especially worried.

“So, what did the doctor say?” she asked as she handed me an ice cream. “Just bought it for you—strawberry, your favorite.”

I told her about all my previous diagnoses. When I finished, she finally let out a breath. “As long as you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here and walk around for a bit.”

“By the way, where’s Harvey? I haven’t seen him in days.”

Harvey West is my boyfriend. He runs his own company, and it’s been on the rise lately.

“Him? He’s probably buried in work. We haven’t really talked much.”

“Why do you two sound like you barely know each other? Did you fight?” Yara’s gossip radar instantly lit up.

“No. It’s just that he barely has time to worry about me when he’s so busy worrying about his career.”

“So you’re lonely and bored, is what you’re saying.” Yara teased, her tone playful. “I’m telling you, you’re so on edge lately, it’s got to have something to do with him.”

“Let’s not talk about him today. Total mood killer.”

“Fine, fine. As long as you’re okay. Come on, let’s go catch a movie. I heard there’s a new one out that’s supposed to be really good.”

“Anything’s fine.” I scraped the last streak of strawberry sauce from the cup with my spoon and put it in my mouth.

“You’re eating way too fast, Nora,” Yara frowned. “Your stomach’s going to hurt later.”

“No way.” I said, and gave the spoon another slow lick, still wanting more.

I met him for the first time in the middle of a rainstorm.

That day, I’d had a huge fight with my ex-boyfriend and stormed out of the house.

I’d left in such a rush that I didn’t bring an umbrella. Hurt and furious, I ran alone through the streets, crying as I went.

I had no idea how long I ran before I finally collapsed onto a bench at a bus stop.

“Miss, in rain like this, why are you running around without an umbrella?”

A dark umbrella appeared over my head, along with a gentle, cultured voice.

I looked up toward the sound.

The heavy rain blurred my vision, but I could just make out a man in his late twenties or early thirties.

He was wearing a suit, and barely a drop of rain had touched him.

I didn’t want to talk. I just hugged my knees and curled up on the bench.

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “I don’t know what’s going on with you,” he said softly, “but whatever it is, it’s not worth wrecking your health over. There’s a café nearby. How about we go sit down for a bit?”

His jacket was still warm from his body, and a faint trace of cologne slipped into my nose. Almost against my will, I nodded and followed him into the café.

He led the way, clearly familiar with the place, and brought me into a private booth. He ordered a coffee for me. “I figured a lady like you would enjoy this.”

“You guessed right,” I said, surprised. “What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself.” He smiled. “I’m Harvey West, founder of MindMatch Inc. This is my card.”

With that, he handed me his business card.

I knew this company. Their main app was something called “SeeYou.”

It was a local social networking app, insanely popular among young people lately. The big selling point was this: once you completed a personality test, it would automatically match you with people who really “got” you.

No wonder he could so easily figure out some of my interests. Turned out this was literally his field.

After that, we started chatting more and more. He was frighteningly good at reading people. He could tell what kind of personality I had at a glance, then, based on that, infer my hobbies and daily habits. I was honestly blown away.

I told him about the fight with my ex, and some of the emotional mess between us.

He patiently walked me through it all, even trying to stand in my ex’s shoes to help me understand why he might have acted the way he did.

In the end, he said, “The misunderstanding between you two isn’t that deep. It wouldn’t be hard to clear things up. If you’re okay with it, I can get to know him, talk to him for you in a different way, and help you tell him what you really feel inside.”

I was moved by how he put it, so I gave him my ex-boyfriend’s contact info.

That day, he was the one who took me home. Every gesture was so gentlemanly, never crossing any lines. That alone made me start to feel a little something for him.

Later, my ex and I got back together. But it didn’t last long before we were arguing again.

In a fit of anger, I broke up with him. As soon as Harvey found out, he rushed over to comfort me.

That day, I asked him, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t.”

“Would you be willing to be with me?”

He froze. It was a long moment before he finally said, “I’m truly honored that you like me. But you can’t build a relationship on a brief encounter or a twist of fate. What matters more is long-term companionship and growing together. I think we should take our time to really get to know each other, then move our relationship forward from there.”

I had to admit, he was right.

After that, we started seeing each other more and more often. A few months later, we finally made it official and became the kind of couple everyone else envied.

“Nora, hurry up, the movie’s about to start!” Yara grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the theater.

We slipped into the auditorium at the last minute. The place was packed; the movie really was as popular as everyone had said.

The story was about a loving couple who separated because of a misunderstanding. In the end, the heroine discovered that the hero had only left temporarily to help her achieve her dream. She was deeply moved, and once the misunderstanding was cleared up, they got back together.

The plot was simple, but the atmosphere was so warm and tender it was hard not to shed a few tears.

But just as the hero got down on one knee to propose, a harsh roar exploded in my ears.

A second later, a sharp pain shot through my head. I fought to pull myself together, to stay conscious, but it was useless.

In the final instant before I blacked out, I vaguely heard Yara shouting my name.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed. Sitting in front of me was Dr. West, the same doctor who had examined me that morning.

Yara was right beside me, watching me with worry written all over her face.

“You’re finally awake. Are you okay?” She let out a heavy sigh of relief when she saw my eyes open.

“I’m fine. How did I end up here?”

“When we were watching the movie, you suddenly shouted, ‘Men are all assholes!’ and then started attacking the screen. You kept at it until you collapsed on the floor and passed out. I was scared to death—and on top of that, I had to pay a shitload of money for the damages.” Yara huffed. “You owe me at least a few really good meals to make up for it.”