𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟔 ：𝑬𝒌 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂 ✓

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘟𝘐𝘐𝘐. 𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴

Manjari's POV;

I open my eyes slowly, a groan escaping my lips as a dull yet persistent pain courses through my body. My head throbs, the ache spreading like waves, making me instinctively clutch it between my hands, hoping to ease the torment.

As my vision clears, I take in my surroundings-an unfamiliar room bathed in warm, golden light. The decor is vintage, exuding an old-world charm. A delicate porcelain vase sits atop a wooden dresser, accompanied by softly flickering candles, a neat stack of books, and a lone photo frame whose details remain blurred in my dazed state.

Confusion grips me as I push back the heavy blanket covering me, only to freeze in place. The fabric brushing against my skin is foreign, my breath hitching as I realize that these are not my clothes. Someone must have changed me. Panic surges within me like a tidal wave.

Where am I?

Was I captured? Did someone find me?

And then-Ed!

My heart pounds at the thought of him. He saw me! He came to save me! But is this his house? How did I even get here? My mind races for answers, grasping at fleeting fragments of memory.

Suddenly, a flood of images crashes into me like an unrelenting storm. The memories return, sharp and unyielding.

I called Stefan. I found him. And then-a truck, the deafening screech of tires, the sickening sound of impact. His body-lifeless, unmoving. Blood. Too much blood.

He was dead.

A strangled gasp leaves my lips. Dev. He had grabbed me. He had taken me away.

Guilt claws at my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. How did I let this happen? How did I stand by and watch someone I loved die before my eyes? The weight of it is unbearable, a crushing sorrow pressing down on me.

A soft knock at the door startles me from my spiraling thoughts. My gaze snaps toward the entrance as it creaks open. A woman enters, her warm smile gentle as she carries a tray of food. My body tenses instinctively, and I scramble back, pressing myself against the headboard.

But she doesn't stop. Instead, she slowly approaches, her expression kind, her eyes filled with something I can't quite place. Tenderness? Understanding?

I get scared and move back. But she comes forward and caresses my head. She looks at me and says "Don't worry I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Claire. Uhm I'm Edward's..."

She trails off, assuming I won't understand English, but in reality, I do.

So, she places the tray on the nightstand and lifts her hands, gesturing toward herself. She taps her chest lightly, then extends her hands outward, mimicking a rocking motion, as if cradling a baby.

I furrow my brows in confusion, watching her closely. Then, she points toward the door and makes another gesture-a sweeping motion from her forehead, mimicking the way Edward often runs his fingers through his hair.

My breath catches in my throat.

Edward.

She's telling me she's his mother.

I stare at her, processing this silent confirmation, before exhaling a deep sigh of relief. My body, which had been rigid with fear, slowly begins to relax.

"Edward's mother?" I ask, and she looks shocked that I can speak and understand English.

But, She smiles again and motions toward the tray, encouraging me to eat. Hesitantly, I reach for a piece of plain bread, dipping it into the warm milk before taking a small bite. The food is simple yet comforting, and I hadn't realized how empty my stomach was until this moment.