Unpredictable Connection

24. The Weight of Silence

3rd person's POV (Present time):

Char's grip on Engfa's hand tightened as she gently wiped away the tears tracing down her friend's cheeks. The tremor in Engfa's breath and how her shoulders curled inward was all too telling. Char could see it now, clearly. Engfa suffered from panic attacks. And perhaps that was why she always worked so hard to control her emotions— her smiles sometimes felt rehearsed, her silences too heavy.

And most of all, the silence around Freen's past. The way no one—not even Nam, who usually joked about everything—ever brought up memories too far back. It wasn't forgetfulness.

It was deliberate.

It was protection.

Char swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe... maybe remembering would hurt Freen more than any of them could bear.

Char swallowed the knot in her throat and leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Where is P'Serena?"

Engfa drew in a slow, shaky breath, her eyes glassy but composed.
"Our mountain villa," she said quietly. "The one we visited during that holiday... Freen doesn't go there anymore. She doesn't even remember it."

She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice steadier than before.
"So uncle made the arrangements. He shifted Serena there, along with all the necessary medical equipment and medicines. There's a full medical team stationed with her." Her gaze dropped to the floor. "That's why you rarely see Uncle in town anymore. Or at the mansion. Most of his time... it's spent there."

Char swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a breath.
"Why... why didn't you keep her in town? Why leave her there... in the mountains?"

Engfa shook her head, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and when she spoke, her voice cracked like something had splintered deep inside her.

"Because we didn't want her to die."

(Play the song as I wrote this while listening to that song)

That silence that followed was the kind that cuts — heavy, raw, unbearable.

"We didn't want to risk it," Engfa whispered, her hands trembling now. "Seeing Serena... being near her... it could've triggered Freen's memories. And if that happened... if Freen remembered everything all at once—"

Her voice broke.

"She could've shattered. Right there. In front of us."

Char didn't know what to say. She couldn't. Her throat was tight, her heart was sinking fast. All she could do was reach out and pull Engfa close, holding her like the world was ending.

And maybe for Engfa, it had ended. That day. Years ago.

Engfa sobbed into her shoulder, the kind of sob that didn't come from the throat — it came from the soul.

"We go there, Nam and I... to the villa. And every time, it feels like we're stepping into a nightmare we can't wake up from."

Her hands clenched in Char's hoodie, desperate, breaking.

"She's still there. Lying on the same bed where she and I used to lay... laughing, eating chips, watching stupid rom-coms. That bed used to be warm. Loud. Alive."
She choked. "Now it's just... a place where time stopped."

Char felt her own tears spill before she even realized she was crying.

"I look at her face," Engfa continued, her voice hollow. "Those eyes... they used to be so full of life. Big, warm, brown eyes that could soften the coldest person. Now they're just... shut. As if she's tired of this world."