Returning from the Maldives felt like waking up from a dream.
The villa, the ocean breeze, the laughter—it all faded into the gray skies of the city. But for Lisa, something else lingered. A strange ache in her chest. A silent echo.
Home was the same... but she wasn't.
She stepped inside the grand family house, the familiar scent of lavender and old books greeting her. Her room hadn't changed. Her desk, her stuffed bear from childhood, the photos of her university friends.
But something about her reflection in the mirror looked... different.
Lisa tilted her head.
Why do I feel like I lost something... or someone?
⸻
Alex, on the other hand, buried himself in work the moment they got back. Meetings. Calls. Deals. His schedule became suffocating.
Not because he was busy.
But because he was running.
From the look in Lisa's eyes. From the weight of what they had done. From the fact that, when she smiled at him like nothing happened... it broke him more than her tears ever could.
He remembered her words from that night — whispered, trembling, but full of longing:
"Don't go... or I'll miss you for the rest of my life."
And yet... she forgot.
⸻
A few days later, Lisa sat on the floor of her room, grading her kindergarten students' drawings.
The kids had written sweet little notes for her like:
"Teacher Lisa is the best!"
"I want Teacher Lisa to be my mommy!"
She laughed softly, warmth blooming in her heart.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Zia:
"U dreamt anything strange lately? I've been getting weird flashes of the trip. Maybe we were drugged? Lol."
Lisa paused.
She had been having strange dreams. Quick flashes. Hands on her face. A kiss under dim light. Her arms wrapped around someone—warm and firm. A voice she couldn't recognize whispering her name.
Lisa...
She blinked, the pencil falling from her hand.
"Why can't I remember?"
⸻
That night, at dinner, she barely touched her food.
Alex sat at the head of the table, dressed in a black button-up, scrolling through his phone, unreadable as always. But Lisa felt something. A change in the air.
His eyes didn't meet hers.
He was colder than usual.
Detached.
Yet... he kept stealing glances. Tiny ones. Like he couldn't help himself.
Lisa finally spoke up.
"Um... Alex," she said quietly. "Did... anything weird happen that last night in Maldives? I just... I can't really remember. But I feel like..."
Alex's hand tightened around his fork.
"No," he said flatly. "You were drunk. You passed out. Mia brought you to your room."
Lisa blinked. "Oh..."
Something in her chest twisted.
Why did it feel like a lie?
⸻
That night, Lisa lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
The dreams returned. Stronger.
A kiss.
His arms.
Her voice trembling.
And then—darkness.
She woke up gasping.
Her hand flew to her lips.
"...Alex?"