Chapter 5:

The One Who Waited at the Glass

Unwritten (Lily)

***

The prison reeked of rust, bleach, and something older.

He walked with measured steps through the sterile hallway, the soft thud of his leather shoes echoing against the concrete. Guards stood tall at every turn, unmoving, unsmiling.

He didn’t look at them.

He already knew the route.

Third corridor. Left wing.

Cell block D.

He stopped at the visitation window — thick glass, worn metal bench, a single red phone bolted to the wall.

The prisoner was already seated.

Waiting.

Grinning.

That smirk hadn’t changed.

Not from the trial.

Not from sentencing.

Not even now — facing death.

He sat down across from him, every movement controlled. His jaw tense. His hands folded on the metal.

The prisoner leaned in, resting his chin on the receiver but not picking it up.

He raised one brow, amused.

“There he is,” he mouthed through the glass.

“The white knight. Or… saving prince?”

The man didn’t respond.

Not yet.

He slowly lifted the red phone to his ear.

Silence crackled between them.

“You came all this way,” the prisoner said, finally picking up his end. “To glare at me? Or to ask why your precious Lily keeps dreaming of me?”

The man’s grip tightened around the phone.

“I didn’t come for answers.”

“No?” the prisoner drawled. “Then maybe for closure. Or revenge. Or guilt? I can’t tell the difference with you righteous types.”

The man’s gaze didn’t waver.

“You kept her in a shack. You stalked her. You broke her.”

The prisoner tilted his head lazily.

“Did I?” he smiled. “Or did I make her interesting?”

“You’re going to die,” the man said quietly. “But I want you to know this before you go.”

He leaned closer to the glass.

“She survived you. And she will forget you. Not because you meant nothing… but because you deserve to be forgotten.”

The prisoner’s eyes flashed — for the first time, something sharp beneath the grin.

“She ran because I let her,” he hissed.

“Every time. Do you know how fun it is to chase something that wants to be caught?”

The man’s voice was cold steel.

“She didn’t want you. She wanted air. You never gave it to her.”

A pause. Breathing heavy on both ends.

“Tell me,” the prisoner sneered. “Do you think she loves you? Or are you just the soft pillow she cries into after seeing me in her dreams?”

That was enough.

He stood, setting the phone gently back on the hook.

Before turning away, he looked once more through the glass.

“She’s healing. And every breath she takes is a nail in your coffin.”

The prisoner laughed as he walked away.

The sound echoed — hollow, empty, a man clinging to his illusion of control.

But the knight didn’t look back.

***

That day, I still remember…

He still remembered the first time he saw her.

Not the press photos. Not the books. Not the tragedy.

But before that.

In school, during autumn — she was sitting under a tree, writing quietly in her notebook. She didn’t know he watched her from the path. Her hair caught the sunlight like warm honey. Her brow furrowed as she scribbled something with purpose.

She didn’t see him.

But even then…

He wanted to guard that quiet light.

***

(Unknown PoV)

The wipers could barely keep up.

Rain lashed against the windshield in long, uneven streaks. The road was nearly invisible now—just a blur of wet asphalt and fractured light under the storm. The vehicle hummed beneath their fingers, tires slicing through shallow pools as they drove.

They didn’t know why they were going so fast.

Restlessness, maybe. Or something deeper. Something chasing them just behind the sound of the engine.

The night outside was heavy. Trees on both sides of the road looked like shadows with teeth. A sharp turn came and went. They didn’t slow down.

Then—

A flash of movement.

A shape.

Someone.

Too close.

Their foot slammed down on the brake.

The tires screamed.

The car swerved slightly—slowed just enough to avoid the full hit. But the body still struck the side, rolling once, crumpling against the wet gravel as the vehicle jerked to a stop.

Silence.

Only the rain.

Only the sudden, pulsing sound of their heartbeat in their ears.

They sat frozen in the driver’s seat, breath stuck in their throat, hands trembling against the wheel.

No… no… no…

They threw the door open and stumbled out, shoes sinking into wet earth. Rain poured into their clothes, sticking to their skin, as they ran forward — breathless, half in shock.

The figure lay there.

Small. Still. Drenched in rain.

They dropped to their knees beside her.

It was a woman. Her dress soaked, clinging to her skin. One bare foot scraped. A gash on her knee. Her hair tangled across her face.

She looked broken.

She looked...

Lily.

Her name didn’t come out — it stayed caught in the back of their throat, heavy and electric.

She was breathing.

Barely.

Her lashes fluttered like she’d been running in her sleep.

They touched her shoulder, gently, not knowing if they should move her.