In Another's Shoes.

Crimson Vigil.

Chapter 42: (Your pov)

The first light of dawn had barely begun to filter through the curtains when I woke up. I finally drifted into a fitful sleep at midnight. The heavy drapes did little to keep the room dark, and the early morning light cast long, eerie shadows across the room.

My mind was clouded with dread and uncertainty. I could feel Jungkook's presence beside me, his steady breathing indicating that he was still asleep. My heart raced as I remembered the events of the previous day and the warning letter that now seemed like an inescapable doom.

As I lay there, The fear of what the next day would bring made it impossible to think clearly. My mind was numb with terror, and I felt paralyzed.

Suddenly, I felt a large hand grasp my arm tightly, pulling me closer. Startled, I turned to see Jungkook, still seemingly asleep, his face softened by the vulnerability of slumber. Jungkook's arm was draped over me. My body stiffened as a panic set in.

He was still asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch unexpectedly warm.

Jungkook: Don't go anywhere, Aaira.

He murmured in his sleep, his voice a low, sleepy whisper.

Jungkook: Please don't leave me, I'm empty without you.

He paused for a moment before continuing,

Jungkook: Stay with me, please.

His words, though were uttered unconsciously, but still they struck a chord within me. The cold, disdainful Jungkook I had come to know seemed far removed from the man lying beside me.

Jungkook: I love you, Aaira.

I lay there, cocooned in his embrace, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The fear that had gripped me moments before began to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

I eventually fell back into an uneasy sleep, my dreams haunted by visions of thing jungkook my do to me if he finds out I'm not his Aaira. and the looming consequences. When I woke again, it was around 11 or 12 PM. The room was bathed in soft, late-morning light. I turned to find that Jungkook was no longer there.

I stayed silent and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts of Aaira. My gaze drifted to a portrait hanging on the wall directly opposite the bed. It was a portrait of Aaira.

The portrait was striking. Aaira looked exactly like me, a mirror image captured in oil and canvas. Her eyes, the same shade of deep green, seemed to look directly into mine. They held a mixture of confidence and vulnerability that was all too familiar.

Her hair, styled in loose waves, framed her face perfectly, just as mine did. The resemblance was uncanny, almost unsettling. In the painting, she wore a regal gown of deep blue, adorned with intricate embroidery.

The dress was elegant, befitting her status, and she held herself with a grace and poise that spoke of her noble upbringing. Her lips were painted a soft rose, curved into a serene, beautiful smile.

I couldn't help but wonder about the life she had lived. Where are you, Aaira? Why haven't I found any single trace of you around me? The portrait and the journal was the only tangible evidence of your existence.

As I studied your likeness, I studied you closely like no one else did. I wanted you back in your place, to step out of the canvas and reveal yourself. But it seemed like you cared less.

You wouldn't come here, wouldn't explain the mysteries that surrounded you, you wouldn't come and take your place back. You remained elusive, a phantom I could never quite grasp.