Chapter 1:
(The Call)
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of the Willow Hotel room, casting a calm glow across the quiet space.
John stood by the window, unmoving, his thoughts far from peaceful. His eyes rested on Tina, who lay asleep on the bed, her breathing slow and steady—completely unaware of the tension tightening in his chest.
His phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
And again.
By the seventh call, irritation flickered across his face, but he still didn't answer. Instead, he clenched his jaw slightly, as if the sound itself was testing his patience.
"Morning…"
Tina's voice broke through the silence.
She sat up, stretching lightly, her braids falling gently over her shoulders. The moment her eyes landed on John, her lips curved into a bright, effortless smile.
"Morning,"
he replied, his tone calm but distant.
She studied him for a moment before stepping out of bed, her blue nightgown flowing softly around her.
"What's wrong? You seem… off."
There was concern in her voice now.
John hesitated before speaking.
"Dad wants me back home."
Tina's eyes lit up instantly.
"Really? That's good news!"
But the excitement didn't last. She noticed the shadow in his expression—the hesitation, the unease.
"…Isn't it?" she added more quietly.
John looked away.
"Let's just get ready. We should leave soon."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked into the bathroom.
Tina remained where she stood, confusion flickering across her face. After a moment, she reached for her phone.
The screen lit up.
45 missed calls.
Her heart skipped.
She dialed immediately.
"Rita, what's going on? Why are you calling me this much?"
There was a pause.
Then, whatever she heard on the other end drained the color from her face.
"…Okay. Don't panic. I'm coming."
She ended the call quickly, but her calm expression no longer matched the urgency in her movements.
Within minutes, she was dressed. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her earlier warmth replaced with focus and tension.
She didn't look toward the bathroom.
She didn't call out to John.
She simply left.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Tina stepped inside, ignoring the presence of others as she applied lip gloss with slightly trembling hands.
Her phone rang again.
She didn't even check the caller ID this time.
"John, something important came up. I can't go with you to see Madison."
Her voice was quick. Detached.
Before he could respond, the call ended.
Back in the hotel room, John stared at his phone, his brows slowly knitting together.
That wasn't like Tina.
For three years, she had always been patient—always calm. She explained things, no matter how small.
But just now…
She sounded rushed. Cold. Almost like she was hiding something.
A quiet unease settled deep within him.
Something wasn't right.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Room service," he muttered as he walked toward the door.
But the moment he opened it, he froze.
A young woman stood outside. Her face was hidden behind a black mask, a cap pulled low over her eyes.
Before he could say a word, she pushed past him and rushed inside.
"Hey—!"
The door slammed shut behind her.
She leaned against it, breathing hard, like someone who had just escaped danger.
"Sorry… please… can I stay here for a while?"
Her voice was strained, barely steady.
John didn't move. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Why?"
He wasn't the type to trust strangers—not like this.
"Because—"
She stopped abruptly.
Fear flickered in her eyes.
Then, just as suddenly as she had entered, she unlocked the door and rushed out again.
Gone.
John stood there, stunned.
"What just happened…?"
He stepped into the hallway, glancing both ways.
Nothing.
No sign of her.
A strange chill crept up his spine.
"Weird…"
He shut the door slowly this time.
"It's already ten."
Muttering to himself, he grabbed his keys and bag, adjusting his collar as if trying to steady himself.
"John? Is that you?"
The familiar voice made him turn.
"Stella…"
Seven years had passed, yet he recognized her instantly.
"What a surprise," he said with a polite smile.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"Work," he replied simply. "You?"
She hesitated, then smiled shyly.
"I just got engaged."
She raised her hand slightly, revealing a simple ring.
John blinked, then smiled genuinely.
"Congratulations. He must be the lucky one."
"John, this is David—my fiancé."
They shook hands.
"Nice to meet you," David said. "I've heard about you."
John raised a brow.
"Oh? Should I be concerned?"
"Not really," David replied with a grin. "Just that you were always too busy for her."
Stella lightly hit his arm.
"I did not say that!"
John chuckled softly.
Some things never changed.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he said. "I wish you both happiness."
And he meant it.
Inside the elevator, silence surrounded him.
His phone lit up again.
Father.
John stared at the screen, his jaw tightening.
"What do you really want from me…?"
The elevator doors opened.
He stepped out, heading toward the parking lot without looking back.
His car wasn't flashy, but it suited him.
As he drove, the silence was broken only by missed calls from his assistant.
"Speak," he said once the call connected.
"Why are you calling me? Talk to the artist."
His tone was sharp.
His assistant, Joseph, was clumsy—but he was also John's best friend. After losing his job, John had hired him, knowing he was struggling while preparing for his wedding.
"What else is it?"
John asked, his stomach beginning to growl.
"My mother…"
Joseph began.
"She wants to see me?"
John sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
Why was everyone suddenly looking for him today?
"I'll be there in an hour or two. Get me something to eat before I arrive."
He ended the call and drove on, his thoughts heavier than before.
Because deep down—
He knew.
This wasn't just coincidence.
Something was about to change.
😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁🦋🦋😁😁😁😁😁😁
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