Unpredictable Connection

35. When the Past Finds the Present

Freen's POV:

The laughter hadn't faded, but something in my chest began to ache. Dessert had just been served — small bowls of warm, fragrant sweets that smelled like comfort — yet I barely noticed them.

A sharp throb behind my eyes made me flinch. It wasn't just a headache. I knew this feeling by now.

Another flashback was coming.

I couldn't let it happen here. Not in front of everyone. Not when the night still held its shine.

So I stood up quietly and offered a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I'll be right back."

No one questioned me.

Not even Becky.

I walked past the warm lighting of the restaurant, past the quiet murmur of conversations, and slipped through the door to the terrace. The cool night air greeted me like a whisper, brushing against my skin. I gripped the railing, trying to ground myself, but the pain behind my eyes only sharpened.

It hit harder this time.

My legs weakened, and I sank down onto the cold tile floor, one hand clutching my head.

The memory came without mercy.

A slap.

Someone struck me — not harshly, but enough to leave a mark in my mind. My hand trembled as it held something delicate... a flower. The face in front of me was hidden behind a black mask. I couldn't tell who she was — only the glint of eyes, something feverish or maybe desperate in them.

Why was I being hit?
Why was I holding that flower?

The memory was fragmented, like a film reel skipping frames.

Then came Nam — suddenly, forcefully entering the scene. She pushed the girl away, her body shielding mine. Their voices clashed in muffled tones I couldn't make out, but her rage was clear. Nam grabbed my hand and pulled me back — into what looked like our old mansion. Familiar halls. A chandelier overhead.

P'Fa was standing there.

But someone else stood beside her.

Someone who looked... like me.

Not entirely. But enough that it startled me.

She's the same girl from the other flashes — eating with me, playing, falling asleep next to me. A presence in my lost childhood that refuses to speak her name. I've seen her over and over in these memories.

And I still don't know who she is.

The ache in my head twisted harder, like the past was punishing me for trying to remember.

I groaned, hunched forward, and clutched my knees to my chest.

Then — arms.

Warm. Firm.

Someone wrapped me in a hug from the side, grounding me back into the now.

I could hear faint whispers, a voice calling my name in soft panic — desperate but loving. But I couldn't focus on it yet. I was still halfway trapped in that memory, still trying to hold onto the face I couldn't recognize.

My body reacted before my mind caught up.

"Go from here," I muttered, pushing away the person holding me.

I didn't mean it cruelly. I just... needed space to breathe. To think.

A soft, shaken voice answered.