Mirror of Fate

Chapter 4 - Drawn Together

Milo:

I messed with the brace on my left knee, wincing as I moved it around. Still stiff, still not right, but I was getting through it. That injury had been a real slap in the face, reminding me I wasn't invincible, no matter how much I wanted to believe it. One minute, I was on top—young, killing it, with a career people only dream of—and the next, I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I was going to do with myself.

Those months stuck in recovery? Brutal. Physical therapy was a nightmare—hours of sweating, gritting my teeth, trying to get my muscles to remember how to work again. And the worst part? Watching everyone else move forward while I was just stuck. I was always the guy in the spotlight, always on the move, and suddenly, I was sidelined. It felt like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from.

But now I was back. Back to Seoul, back to the life I knew, and more fired up than ever. Yeah, the injury set me back, but it also gave me something I hadn't had in a while—perspective. I had time to think about what I really wanted out of all this—out of life, out of my career. I wasn't just the pretty face on stage anymore. I was someone who'd been through some shit, who'd fought to get back on his feet.

I flexed my leg again, that familiar twinge throbbing, but I ignored it. No time to feel sorry for myself now. The stage was waiting for me, and I had work to do. If there's one thing I'd learned from this whole mess, it was that I could take whatever gets thrown my way.

As soon as I got the all-clear from the doctors, I was on this plane back to Seoul. The company needed me back ASAP, and my schedule was already packed with rehearsals, interviews, and everything else that came with the job. The ticket was booked the moment I was cleared to fly. I had to get my head back in the game, feel the city's energy again, and dive back into the life I'd fought so hard to build.

But sitting here, waiting for takeoff, the tension started to creep in. Flying wasn't exactly my favorite thing. There was something about being stuck in the air, thousands of feet above the ground, that just got to me. My other leg bounced nervously as I tried to distract myself, but the familiar anxiety gnawed at the edges of my mind.

I was lucky to even get a first-class seat. The flight was packed, but the agent at the desk recognized me. She was young, probably a fan, and her eyes lit up the second she saw me. A quick chat, a selfie, and she managed to upgrade me.

Being recognized has its perks sometimes.

Now here I was, sprawled out in a plush first-class seat, my leg stretched out, just waiting for the plane to take off. The cabin was starting to quiet down, the last passengers finally settling in. I leaned back at the window seat, trying to shake off the tension that still clung to me. It had been a rough year, and I was more than ready to get back on stage, back to doing what I loved.

The door to the plane was about to close when something caught my eye—a flash of white. I turned just in time to see her—a freaking bride, of all things—sprinting down the aisle, an oversized black hoodie doing a terrible job of covering up her wedding dress. The train dragged behind her, catching on her feet and nearly tripping her up more than once.

I couldn't look away. She was a mess—hair falling out of what was probably a neat hairdo, streaks of mascara running down her cheeks like she'd been crying. Her hands were shaking as she tried to get her seatbelt on, clearly freaking out but trying to keep it together.

I turned my gaze forward, trying not to stare, but it was impossible not to be curious. Who the hell runs onto a plane in a wedding dress? My mind was spinning with possibilities—runaway bride, wedding gone wrong, last-minute escape? Whatever the deal was, it had to be a crazy story.