Arman didn't start the bike immediately.
Something about the dock worker's stare had stayed with him, sitting heavy in the back of his mind like a thought that refused to go away.
He slipped the broken pink phone case into his jacket pocket and glanced once more toward the rows of shipping containers.
The worker was still there.
Standing under the yellow floodlight.
Watching.
Samantha climbed onto the motorcycle behind him again.
"Did you find something?" she asked softly.
"My suspicion," Arman said.
She frowned slightly.
"That sounds dramatic."
"It is."
He put on his helmet and started the engine. The motorcycle roared to life, echoing across the empty dockyard.
But before he pulled away, he looked once more in the side mirror.
The dock worker hadn't moved.
His eyes were fixed on them.
Or rather…
On the space beside Arman.
Arman's chest tightened slightly.
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe the man was just curious why someone had wandered into a restricted port area late at night.
Still, the way his gaze lingered felt… wrong.
Arman pushed the thought aside and twisted the throttle.
The bike shot forward.
They sped past the stacked containers and out onto the long industrial road that led away from the harbor.
Behind him, Samantha looked back.
The docks slowly faded into darkness.
"I don't like that place," she murmured.
"Me neither."
The wind rushed around them as the city lights grew closer again.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.
Then Samantha leaned slightly forward.
"You found my phone case."
"Yeah."
"So this is where the car stopped."
"Yes."
Her voice softened.
"And where I died."
Arman didn't answer immediately.
He focused on the road ahead.
"You said you don't remember what happened after the car stopped," he said.
"Yes."
"But you will."
"How?"
"Memories come back slowly."
She was quiet for a moment.
"You sound very confident for someone who learned about ghosts yesterday."
He smiled slightly.
"Fake confidence."
She laughed softly behind him.
The sound warmed something inside his chest.
For a moment, the tension of the docks faded.
But far behind them—
A pair of headlights flickered on.
The dock worker's truck rolled slowly out from between the container rows.
Inside the cab, the man leaned forward slightly, gripping the steering wheel.
His eyes stayed locked on the motorcycle disappearing down the road.
He had seen something.
He was sure of it.
At first he thought it was a trick of the light.
A shadow.
But when the boy had turned toward the bike…
There had been someone standing beside him.
A girl.
Faint.
Like a reflection that didn't belong.
The man rubbed his eyes again.
Impossible.
And yet…
The image refused to leave his mind.
He shifted the truck into gear.
The engine growled softly.
Then he pulled out of the docks and onto the same road the motorcycle had taken.
Not fast.
Not obvious.
Just far enough behind.
Following.
Arman slowed the motorcycle when they reached the edge of the city.
Neon lights returned.
Restaurants.
Late-night convenience stores.
Traffic signals blinking yellow.
He pulled into a quiet street near his house.
The engine quieted as the bike rolled to a stop.
Samantha slid off the seat.
The air felt calmer here.
Safer.
But Arman suddenly felt something prickle along the back of his neck.
The feeling of being watched.
He glanced behind him casually.
A pickup truck turned slowly onto the same street.
Its headlights passed over them briefly.
Then the truck continued driving.
Samantha noticed his expression.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," he said.
But his eyes followed the truck as it moved down the road.
Something didn't sit right.
He couldn't explain why.
Maybe he was just tired.
Maybe his mind was playing tricks after everything that had happened.
He shook it off and parked the bike.
"Come on," he said.
They walked toward the house.
Inside, the lights flicked on automatically.
The familiar quiet returned.
Samantha moved toward the living room window again.
She had grown fond of that spot.
It allowed her to watch the street.
The living world passing by.
Arman tossed his keys onto the table.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Just thinking."
"About the docks?"
"Yes."
He leaned against the wall.
"Your memories will come back."
She looked at him.
"You really believe that."
"I do."
Her expression softened slightly.
"You're very stubborn."
"That's one of my best qualities."
She smiled faintly.
But as they talked....outside the house....
A truck slowed quietly across the street.
The dock worker sat inside.
Watching the windows.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
There.
He saw it again.
For just a second.
A faint figure standing beside the man inside the house.
Not solid.
Not quite real.
But there.
The dock worker leaned forward slowly.
His heartbeat rising.
"Impossible," he muttered under his breath.
But his eyes never left the house.
Because now he was certain of one thing.
The man inside that house was not alone.