I need to start from scratch - Evah
INT. ERION'S PAD — 10 P.M.
Erion walked into his pad as usual, careful to keep his movements quiet for Evah.
But something felt off.
Standing in the doorway, he scanned the entire place. Everything was in perfect order.
BANG.
He spun to his right, ready for anything—
Only to see the window slam shut from the strong wind. The storm outside was getting worse.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe the adrenaline still hadn't left his system.
His gaze shifted again, tracing every corner of the room.
The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar, and darkness reigned inside.
It was always like this—Evah slept early and left it unlocked.
Erion didn't flick the lights on. His eyes were well-adjusted to the night.
He opened the fridge, poured a glass of water. The cool light from inside spilled over the floor, illuminating just enough of the room to move.
His office was inside the same room where Evah slept.
He moved quietly, as always.
Hand on the cold doorknob, he pushed the door gently.
And froze.
Inside was something far different from his usual room.
Soft candlelight glowed from every surface, arranged perfectly to create a warm, even light across the space.
A low cloud of mist drifted from several humidifiers that sprayed continuously, scenting the air with lavender.
The sheets on his bed were the same white ones, but now covered with extra pillows. On the side table, several bottles lined up neatly.
A low-frequency track played faintly in the background—so quiet it was not noticeable. The air conditioner hummed gently, the temperature perfectly balanced: not too cold, but comfortable.
And there—standing by the bedside—was Evah.
Looking just as surprised as he was.
Erion shot her a look, brow raised.
Waiting.
But Evah never spoke, like she was more surprised than he was.
"What… is this?" he finally asked from the doorway of the now foreign-looking room.
"Are you starting a cult?"
"No!" she instantly denied.
"Then what's with all the candles?" he asked, stepping fully inside, amusement tugging at his tone.
"It…" Evah uttered under her breath.
Erion stopped in the middle of the room, just a few feet from the bed. He turned slowly, eyes moving over the scene once more.
He crossed his arms against his chest, brow arched.
All of the curtains were closed too.
"Did I miss something? Was there a Halloween party here?"
A disapproving click left Evah's mouth before she moved toward him, but Erion sidestepped easily, avoiding her attempt to grab him.
"Stop! Don't try to—" Evah said, reaching again, but he moved back, looking at her suspiciously.
The muffled sound of the rain created a more relaxing scene.
"Don't tell me you sided with the cult," he teased, chuckling. Amused by her irritated expression.
She was still in her work clothes—white polo, slacks, no lab coat—and looked too serious to match the candlelight setting., She exhaled in irritation.
"It's an experiment! Just participate, okay?" she said, clearly losing patience.
"You're off the clock," he replied, leaning lazily against the bathroom door. "Also, who told you I'd say yes?"
Evah took a deep breath, calming herself.
"This is a spa look. I copied everything." Gesturing to the room.
"I can see that," he said dryly, obviously lying.
"Yeah, right. So everything here is in order—to make you relax and…" she hesitated, biting her lip, unsure if saying it would make things worse.
"It makes you sleep better."
The second she said sleep, his expression shifted. A sharp knot tightened in his chest, instincts snapping to attention.
The warmth drained from his face, replaced by that unreadable stillness she dreaded.
"Bunny…" he said low, flat.
A warning.
"I was just starting," she rushed to explain. "The cure will be more convenient than this, I just need more data."
"Don't you think I'm done being your play toy?"
His voice was calm, nonchalant—but his posture was iron. He leaned against the wall, eyes locked on her.
Evah sighed, gathering every ounce of courage she had.
Slowly, in the dim glow, she stepped toward him.
A foot away, she stopped—looking up at him with quiet determination, gripping her own palm for strength.
"Listen," she said softly. "I found research… and I didn't know cases like this were so common."
Her voice trembled slightly. "Most veterans—and even those still serving—have this disorder. I just want to help. Not just you, but all of them."
Her eyes burned with sincerity. Determination flickered in her every gesture.
Erion saw it—the body language, the conviction that couldn't be faked.
Her passion was too real to dismiss, too bright for him to ignore.
She was too stubborn for her own good. Never afraid of him, never knowing when to stop.
Still, he couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.
He sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders.
And with a small, tired gesture, he raised both hands in surrender.