He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

(Daisy’s POV)

It was morning.

Actual, normal, uneventful morning.

No chains. No gunshots. No one telling me to “stand here” like I’m part of a very questionable experiment.

Progress.

I stood in front of the mirror, toothbrush in my mouth, staring at my reflection like I was trying to confirm that I was, in fact, still

Same face.

Same hair.

Slightly more tired eyes.

Okay, maybe not exactly the same.

I brushed my teeth slowly, my gaze drifting toward the door behind me, half-expecting it to swing open dramatically and reveal

someone with a gun and bad intentions.

It didn’t.

Love that for me.

I rinsed, wiped my face, and stepped out, already moving on autopilot as I got dressed. Jeans, hoodie, sneakers- simple, functional, and most importantly, something I could run in if my life decided to get chaotic again. Which, at this point, felt like a valid concern.

As I grabbed my bag, I glanced toward Lillian’s side. Her door was closed.

Very closed.

I paused for a second, then nodded to myself.

“Right,” I muttered. “The one-night standees are resting.”

That was my official interpretation and I was sticking to it.

But it was not my business; not my concern. Not something I was mentally unpacking before 8 a.m.

I slipped my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door.

Outside felt normal.

Too normal.

The kind of normal that made you question if the last few days had actually happened or if your brain had just taken a very creative detour.

I walked toward the side, and there it was- leaning against the wall like it hadn’t missed me at all:

My bike.

It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a small, slightly worn bike that had seen better days, but still worked.

I reached it and paused for a second, my eyes landing on the little things attached to it.

A faded keychain hanging from the handle; one of those tiny plush ones I got from a street vendor because it looked like it needed a home.

There was also a string of beads wrapped loosely around the brake cable and a sticker on the side that read: “Mind your business.”

Very on-brand.

“I missed you,” I told it. The bike did not respond but I got on anyway.

As I started moving, a new feeling washed over me, subtle and uncomfortable. like someone was watching me.

I slowed slightly, my eyes flicking to the side, then behind me, then across the street.

Nothing.

Just people.

Normal people.

Walking. Talking. Existing.

No suspicious vans. No obvious men in black standing dramatically in corners.

And yet… I knew. I knew they were there somewhere.

Watching.

Monitoring.

Following.

I tightened my grip on the handles slightly.

“I sent the schedule,” I muttered under my breath.

Which I did last night.”

So they knew every class timing, every break, and every movement mapped out neatly like I was planning my own surveillance.

I had thought about lying; switching times and rearranging things. But then I realized something very important.

People like them didn’t rely on guesses. They verified.

And I was not interested in creating problems for myself on day one. So I told the truth.

Which meant, they knew exactly where I was going… at all times.

Fun.

I exhaled slowly and focused forward.

“Just go to school,” I told myself. “Do normal things. Be a normal person.”

Simple.

Westbridge University greeted my eyes with glee.

I slowed as I approached, my bike rolling to a stop just outside the entrance as I took it in.

Crowds.

Students everywhere.

Movement in every direction- with people walking in groups, laughing, arguing, rushing, existing in their own little worlds like nothing outside of it mattered.

It was loud. Alive.

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