Freen's POV
FLASBACK THE KIDNAPPED INCIDENT
''I saw the car they used to dump Mr. On's body," he said.
I was stunned. I'm inside a car, seated right next to the man who abducted me.
We ended up talking about why he did it. His sister is bedridden in a hospital, just waiting for her time. He wanted to surprise her—fulfill her dying wish to see me in person.
"So you weren't lying just to get my attention?" I asked, needing to be sure.
"No," he said, his voice steady. "I told the truth. But I had to do this because someone close to you... was in that car. The one with the people who dumped Mr. On's body."
My blood ran cold.
"What do you mean, someone close to me?" My heart pounded in my chest. "Please explain what you meant by that."
"It's—" He cut himself off, eyes darting ahead. "They found us," he said, suddenly tense And there I saw police gathere nearby.
"I had nothing to do with it," I quickly said, shaking my head, my voice trembling. I could feel the shift in his energy. He looked at me differently now—more cautious, more dangerous.
He subtly showed me the gun tucked into his waistband. I fought the panic rising in my chest and forced myself to stay calm. I couldn't risk escalating the situation. He had vital information about Mr. On's murderer. I couldn't let them kill a witness.
Outside, I could sense how fragile everything was—one wrong move, and this would end in blood.
"I swear I had nothing to do with it," I told him, keeping my voice steady. "But if you trust me, nothing will happen to you. I promise."
His hands trembled slightly. I noticed the fear in his eyes. Gently, I reached for his hand—even though it rested near the weapon. I tried to calm him, to show him he could still choose peace. After a tense moment, he handed me the gun.
We were able to resolve it without anyone getting hurt. Everything unfolded as I had hoped.
Fast forwar to the hospital
But then... My heart shattered when I saw his sister in that hospital bed. In the short hours we spent together, celebrating her birthday, I didn't expect that would be her last. I watched helplessly as doctors tried to revive her. Nurses pushed us out. I felt his pain—the pain of losing someone you love.
"Please," I whispered in silent prayer, "give her another chance to live. She's too young to leave this world."
But the doctors pronounced her dead.
I sobbed. Across the room, her brother stood motionless—too shocked to cry, too frozen to react. I wanted to go to him, to offer comfort, but I didn't know how.
Then, two warm hands landed on my shoulders and gently guided me out the back exit of the hospital. I was thankful no one noticed my presence—because I was too fragile to handle anything else right now.
Back in the car, I stared out the window, eyes fixed on the sky, silently asking God a hundred questions. Mr. Jaa in the front seat, and Saint sat quietly in the backseat with me. My tears wouldn't stop.
The grief for Mr. On hit me hard. He had been like a father to me after I lost my own. I couldn't help but feel cursed—like everyone close to me ends up hurt, or worse. Maybe I didn't deserve to be loved.
And yet… there was Becky.
End flashback
Her heartbeat was soft and steady as I lay curled beside her, my head on her chest, my arm wrapped around her waist. That gentle rhythm was like a lullaby for my soul. In that moment, I felt peace. Just her heartbeat was enough to begin my day.
Last night, the weight in my chest and the fog in my mind had drawn me to her door. I hadn't planned it. My feet moved on their own. I knocked lightly, not expecting her to open. But she did—her eyes wide with surprise when she saw me.
And before either of us could speak, I threw myself into her arms.
She stumbled a bit from the force of my embrace. I clung to her shirt, sobbing into her neck. She didn't say a word, but her arms wrapped around me, holding me tight. It was everything I needed.
Now, in the early light, I gently unwrapped myself from her sleeping form. I sat beside her and watched her sleep, conflicted between needing to go and wanting to stay forever.
Then she snored.
I giggled. Her mouth hung open slightly, hair a mess, arms sprawled over her body. Her right leg curled up while the left was stretched out, and the blanket had slid down to her waist. Her shirt had ridden up, revealing her toned stomach—and her black bra peeked through.
My cheeks flushed. I turned to leave but paused. I pulled the blanket back up over her, fixed the strands of hair covering her face, and kissed her forehead gently—before I could stop myself.
It felt so natural, like something I'd done a thousand times.
"Good morning, my lady," I whispered and shook my head. That's something the woman from my dreams would say. This whole situation felt so eerily familiar. Too familiar.
I keep getting flashes—visions—as if I've lived all this before. I keep dismissing them, blaming the antidepressants. But they're getting stronger. Like the dance yesterday. It felt real—as if Becky and I were the characters from the novel, not just acting it out.
I glanced at her one last time, then stepped out of her room. I leaned against the door, placing a hand on my chest to steady my racing heart.
"Remember me," the voice echoed in my head. "Do not forget. Time is running out. You have to remember before it's too late."
What's happening to me?
Am I losing my mind?
Maybe I should talk to someone. My therapist. A friend. Anyone. Everything that's happened these past months… maybe it's triggering something deep inside me.
I felt dizzy, reaching out to the wall for support, trying not to collapse in the hallway. A firm hand grabbed mine just in time.
"Miss, are you okay? Do you need help?"
The man helped me sit down. I was on my way to my room on the opposite wing, and I'd had to cross the mansion's grand center lobby to get there.
"Yes, I'm... okay," I said, catching my breath—then froze as I looked up.
That face.
Where have I seen him before?
"Ma'am? Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, a little confused by how I stared.
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," I said, though my voice was shaky. He had a charming smile—one that reached his eyes. There was something so familiar about him.
"I'm sorry if I'm wrong," I said slowly, "but have we met before?"
He smiled again. And it hit me—like a wave.
"Yes. I'm your grandson. Remember?" he teased.
I blinked. What?
"Haha, just kidding," he laughed as I glared at him.
"Just call me Mr. Cute Guy," he added, scratching the back of his neck, a blush on his cheeks. "I'm a fan of you and Becky. It's a dream come true to meet you both."
My jaw dropped. "Oh my God... you're the writer?"
"Ahehe... kind of," he said shyly.
"I can't believe it. I've always wanted to meet you!"
"Heh. Me too," he said awkwardly.
"You do? Why?" I asked, already regretting how cheesy it sounded.
"Ahehe… like I said, I'm a big fan. From the stories I've read about you two… it must've been amazing to love like that. It's inspiring. Sad, though, that nobody knows about these historical events."
"...What stories?" I asked.