Alex sat on the arm of a chair on the balcony, a silver bracelet dangling between his fingers as he held a glass of wine in his right hand. His right foot rested on the stool before him, his eyes fixed on the bracelet. It shimmered softly, as though it had caught the gaze of the milky moon hanging in the clouds, watching him.
He sipped the wine, the strawberry sweetness soothing him as it melted on his tongue.
I finally found you, he thought, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes flicked open.
Before him, a memory unfurled—A memory unfolded—A girl had fallen into the pool. She flailed as water filled her mouth, choking her screams. Without thinking, Alex dove in, reaching her just as she lost consciousness. Even unconscious, she was beautiful, and the scent of her perfume lingered, bewitching him completely.
"So strange," Alex muttered, clicking his tongue at the memory.
People crowded around the pool, lifting her away. The next day, Alex left for another school, but he returned searching for her. That day, in the woods, he saw them—her and another boy, hand in hand, sitting close together. He watched them kiss, the trees, the sky, and the leaves bearing witness to their closeness.
He had felt betrayed—by them, by his own heart.
But not any more. Alex took another sip of his wine, smirking at the thought. Not now, when Chris has his own problems to solve. His own fear of connection.
He let the wine glass swing gently between his fingers, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes flickered with amusement, the sharpness of the moment almost lost in his quiet, mocking laugh. There was a warmth in his chest—he could feel it, and it surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way.
He had thought they would never meet again. He had thought he'd lost everything. But then—his thoughts faltered, his grip on the glass tightening. His chest tightened, heat flooding his skin as if his scars were fresh again. The familiar ache crawled through him, sharp and relentless.
In his mind, a boy crawled through the ruins of a burning house, the smoke choking him. Outside, a woman lay, her swollen belly exposed, reaching for him through the flames. Her clothes burned, tears streaking down her face as they locked eyes.
The boy crawled forward, but the smoke choked him, blurring his vision. He could hardly move.
"Mum!" he cried faintly. A beam fell across his back, knocking him unconscious. But someone pushed the wood off him and lifted him onto their shoulder. Before he passed out, he heard a man curse under his breath, unable to save the woman.
Alex downed the wine, grimacing.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Khalid," Alex had heard the professor say softly to his uncle as they sat in silence. "Alex won't be able to pursue medicine and surgery." He paused. "I could suggest he consider a different course."
"Why?" Alex had stared at the professor, eager for an answer to his uncle's question.
The professor had gestured toward Alex's face and neck, a heavy sigh escaping him.
And then they understood—his face and much of his body had been deformed by the fire. The scars looked as though his skin had been torn away, and people recoiled when they saw him, wrinkling their noses as if he stank, turning away as though he were a monster.
Alex bowed his head, avoiding the professor's gaze, fingers pinching the edge of the table. His legs trembled. He heard his uncle sigh deeply, placing his hand on Alex's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as if offering comfort.
"There must be a way, Professor. This is Alex's dream."
"I'm sorry, I won't be able to help. Perhaps…" The professor paused, waving his hand dismissively. "Never mind."
"What do you mean?" Uncle Khalid urged. "We'll do anything."
The professor sighed, rubbing his nose. "I'm just thinking…" he shrugged. "If Alex is determined to pursue this so badly, maybe he should consider facial surgery. But…" He quickly added, "It's just advice."
"Sur…" Alex finally spoke, slowly raising his head to meet the professor's gaze. "Surgery?"
The professor shrugged again, leaning back in his chair casually.
Alex turned to his uncle, who gave him a questioning look.
His grip tightened around the wine glass until his knuckles were white, the fragile glass a symbol of everything he couldn't contain. Without warning, he hurled it across the room. The shattering sound echoed like a snap, a crack in his carefully constructed mask. He stood frozen, chest heaving, his breath sharp in the silence. He bent his head, burying his fingers in his hair.
How much had that decision haunted him? How much had he changed since then? That moment had shaped who he was now, leading him down the path he had been on.
And now—there was Isa. The woman he had longed for, dreamed of meeting again if he ever had the chance—and now, that chance had finally arrived.
His stomach twisted at the thought. Could Isa look past the scars, past the things he could never fix? The question gnawed at him, its weight settling deep in his chest as the fear of rejection loomed larger than ever.
When he stared at his reflection, his eyes would trace the face, as though searching for someone familiar beneath the scars. His fingers would hover over the mirror, but he couldn't bring himself to touch the glass. It felt like staring at a stranger—someone he couldn't quite believe was him.
Alex grunted, grinding his teeth in frustration.
He tugged at his hair, his knuckles white as the thought of Isa pierced through him. Could she be the one to help him rebuild, to finally make him whole again? The hope flickered, but the fear gnawed at him—would she see him as he was now, or would she turn away?
The sound of an open door broke his thoughts. Alex straightened, his fingers raking through his hair as he turned to see who had entered.
Ryan scanned the glass shards.
"What's all this mess, Alex?"
"You don't tell me Isa was his assistant?" Alex glanced at Ryan, a hiss escaping his lips.
Ryan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "How would I know? I've never seen her picture."
Seconds passed in silence, the room still except for the soft breeze that seemed to cool the air.
"So," Ryan finally spoke, breaking the silence. "What's your plan? And about the trends…"
"I'll let him go if I can have her," Alex cut him off.
Ryan narrowed his eyes. "Are you serious? You killed your uncle for this." He clenched his fists. "I don't believe you."
Alex smirked, but the expression faded as his gaze dropped to the shattered glass glittering on the floor. For a moment, he stared in silence, the jagged edges catching the light like frozen fragments of his thoughts. He winced, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I won't let him go—not while I'm still bleeding. But once I find my redemption… I'll set him free too."
Ryan crossed his arms. "Then my service is no longer needed."
Alex turned to him with a faint smile. "Afraid I'll abandon you now?"
"Since you won't need me anymore…" Ryan muttered, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Alex shook his head and held out a white card. Ryan took it, his brows knitting as he examined it—an invitation to Silver Crest.
"Who invited you?"
Alex shrugged and stood. "That's what I need you to find out."
Ryan nodded, slipping the card into his pocket.
"Don't worry," Alex said, patting his shoulder. "Once this is over, I'll make sure you're well compensated."
Ryan met his gaze, emotion flickering behind his eyes. Alex squeezed his shoulder, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.