4 days before spring ended
That night.
In the kitchen, water ran through the tap.
Leyla was washing her plate,
yet her mind wandered, thinking of Ronan.
The memory of them.
The question Ronan kept asking her.
"Who were you talking to at my café?"
Then, suddenly.
the water grew cold like ice.
"Och..." she gasped, snapping out of her thoughts.
She took a cup, filled it with water, and turned off the tap.
Before she could drink it, the doorbell rang.
"Who?" she murmured.
She peeked through the hole,
but saw no one.
Who could it be? A parcel?
She thought.
Then she opened the door.
Looked down, nothing.
Then her eyes lifted.
And met another's.
Cherry eyes. Silver hair.
Blood-red lips.
Beautiful... yet haunting.
It was Silva.
She smiled.
Leyla froze. "Who—?"
Cold crept down her spine.
Silva's lips parted.
"My name is Silva.
And I have something to tell you."
Her eyes glowed.
She pulled Leyla into a memory.
Silva was five years old.
Running, trying to reach her father's hands.
On a train.
A gunshot rang out.
The bullet pierced her heart.
She fell.
Covered in blood.
Leyla's heart stopped.
"W-what was that?" she asked,
voice shaking.
A soft voice answered.
"That is me. My memory.
There's a world after death.
I am dead.
And I can control memories... day and time."
Her eyes dimmed again.
Then she asked,
"Leyla, what if I told you...
you had fallen in love with the dead?"
Leyla didn't know.
Yet somehow,
that line struck something deep.
"You see..."
Her red eyes glowed again.
Leyla saw him.
Lucian.
At first glance, she didn't recognize him.
But her heart did.
"Lucian," Silva whispered.
"I want you to stay away from him.
He doesn't belong in your world anymore.
And you...
don't belong in the afterlife.
Unless you want to join us..."
She reached out her hand.
"Come to me, so you can be with him.
Or stay here among the living...
and forget everything."
Leyla stepped back.
Terrified.
"Why would you do that?"
"Love," Silva said.
Her chin lifted.
"Because I love him.
Yet he never sees me.
Because of you.
And because of you...
he might turn into a demon."
"No!" Leyla snapped.
"You can't take my memory!"
Then, in a flash,
Silva's eyes glowed.
She glided toward Leyla.
"I didn't ask!"
Leyla stepped back
nowhere to run.
Then she threw the glass she was holding,
her hand trembling in terror.
The glass shattered on the floor.
Small pieces flying
like a sprinkler.
For Silva,
it felt like being made of spiderweb,
and a needle dragged through her.
Her whole body pulled,
her soul unraveling thread by thread.
Her body began to fade.
To deform.
Leyla, without hesitation,
grabbed another handful of glass pieces on the floor,
and hurled it. "Go away!" she screamed.
Silva turned smoky gray...
and retreated.
Leyla slammed the door.
Then looked at her hands.
Bleeding.
Shaking.
Terrified.
She cried...
Sitting behind the door.
Back at the café.
Ronan locked the door.
Suddenly, like a gust of wind,
something swept through him,
into the café.
"Wait, what...?" he whispered.
He felt it.
But before he could open the door again,
his phone rang.
He picked it up.
"Leyla?"
For a few seconds,
he only heard her cry.
Then.
"Ronan... I'm scared..."
His heart dropped.
"I'm coming to your apartment."
When he arrived,
the elevator stopped at Level 24.
The doors opened.
He stepped out.
onto broken glass.
He looked down, frowning...
but brushed it off.
The closer he got to her unit,
the more shattered glass he saw.
"What's going on here?"
At first, he thought it might be a robbery.
Or a stalker.
He rang the bell.
"Leyla, it's me," he said,
just loud enough for her to know it was him.
Then, she opened the door,
quickly.
She looked like a mess.
Blood on her hands,
smearing the floor.
Barefoot.
Stepping on glass.
She rushed into his arms.
"Leyla!" he gasped, shocked.
But he held her.
Comforted her.
"Yeah... I'm here.
I'm here," he whispered.
Steady and calm.
Leyla sobbed.
"You're Ronan, right?!
I still remember, right?!
It is you, right?!"
"Yes. I'm Ronan."
Intrigued...
he studied her.
Something was wrong.
Then,
a small smile curled
at the corner of his lips.
He led her to the couch.
Tended to her wounds,
her hands,
her feet.
He removed the glass
carefully.
Then brought her coffee.
"Lucky you had ingredients in your kitchen,"
he said softly.
"So I got to make you this."
Then, slowly,
he bandaged her hands.
"I called your work for tomorrow,"
he said gently.
"So you don't need to go in."
Leyla nodded.
Then.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
Her eyes stayed glued
to their joined hands.
"I..."
Then she began to speak.
Slowly.
Her voice trembling.
As she spoke,
it was as if she was reliving it.
Ronan listened.
Quiet.
Intrigued.
"I see... so they're real," he murmured.
"Yes," she replied,
as if pleading.
"She wants my memory.
Or... death."
Then, Ronan hugged her.
"Hey... from now on,
you stay with me.
I'll protect you.
You're safe..."
Back at the café.
Silva's soul flickered faintly.
She sat on the table,
trying to calm herself.
Then.
Lucian entered.
Slow.
Heavy.
He sat beside her,
but didn't look at her.
"Who did this to you?" he asked.
His voice low, serious.
Only his eyes turned to her.
eyes full of death.
Silva whispered,
"...Leyla."
Lucian flinched.
"What have you done?" he asked.
Not What did Leyla do to you?
But What have YOU done?
Silva murmured,
but no words came out.
Lucian stood.
Grabbed her face.
Looked into her eyes.
"Show me."
He tightened his grip.
"I... can't."
Lucian's eyes darkened.
"Then die."
He glanced at the counter,
where Ronan kept all his bottles.
Silva finally confessed,
"Her eyes glowed...
She showed him everything."
Lucian froze.
"Love?" he whispered.
Then, without another word,
he vanished.
When Lucian reached her apartment,
he saw her.
Leyla.
Sitting silently.
Looking out the window.
Then.
"Leyla," he called softly.
She turned.
But not to him.
Her eyes followed Ronan,
as he moved past Lucian,
phasing through his ghostly body.
Lucian stood still.
Her eyes never met his.
She only saw Ronan.
He froze.
Then.
"Tck..."
He looked away.
No matter what happens...
Silva was right.
And just like that...
the night faded.
To be continued...