Timeless | rorasa

Chapter 25: The Karma and The Broken Heart

After that night when Asa dissolved before her eyes, Rora was plunged into an abyss of darkness. The world felt muted, colors dulled, and laughter echoed hollowly. For days, she wandered like a ghost, consumed by grief and guilt, each moment a stark reminder of her profound loss.

Desperate to escape the pain, Rora buried herself in work. The release of her album—a heartfelt tribute to Asa—became both a refuge and a prison. It charted higher than she ever imagined, celebrated for its raw emotion and lyrical depth. Fans were enamored with her self-written songs, each resonating with a love she could now only remember. Yet every note and lyric served as a painful reminder of what was gone.

Rora sat alone in her studio, surrounded by posters and accolades from her recently released album. Though it had debuted on all streaming platforms and garnered rave reviews, the success felt hollow. The songs, brimming with joy, intimacy, and connection—qualities now painfully out of reach—reminded her of the love she had lost. What was meant to be a celebration of passion and creativity had become a cruel reminder of her emptiness.

As the days passed, everyone around her—Mr. Yang, her manager, and Suhyun, her producer—often mentioned Asa. "We really miss Asa's energy," they would say, glancing at Rora with concern. Each mention felt like a dagger, twisting deeper into her heart. Rora wanted to shout at them, to scream that the very thought of Asa's absence was too much to bear. But instead, she remained silent, forcing a smile that never reached her eyes.

Adding to her turmoil was Minju's news about Eisa, Asa's alternate self in this timeline. "Eisa hasn't woken up yet," Minju had told her one day, her voice filled with concern. "It's like she's trapped in a dream." The idea that her desire to keep Asa might have condemned Eisa to an endless slumber gnawed at Rora's conscience, amplifying her guilt.

Rora used her work as a distraction. Each interview and promotional event offered an escape from the reality of her grief. But no matter how busy she kept herself, the memories of Asa lingered like a haunting melody. She wanted to celebrate her success, but the guilt of moving forward without Asa felt suffocating. How could she enjoy the accolades when the inspiration behind them was gone?

On the day of her first live performance of the title track, anticipation buzzed in the air. Rora stood backstage, her heart racing. She could hear the audience cheering, but the excitement felt muted. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for what was to come.

When the music started, she stepped onto the stage, the bright lights blinding her momentarily. Taking another deep breath, she began to sing, pouring her soul into each line.

"In your eyes, I found my home..."

As she sang, Rora recalled the warmth of Asa's gaze, the way it made her feel safe and cherished.

"Every moment, every kiss..."

Memories flooded her mind—the gentle brushes of their lips, the laughter they shared, the quiet nights spent wrapped in each other's arms.

"But now the silence fills the space..."

The lyrics took on a deeper meaning as she felt the emptiness surrounding her, the void left by Asa's absence. The audience was captivated, but Rora could sense their sympathy. They felt her emotion, the sorrow that seeped from every note.

"Oh, how I long to hold you near..."

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she remembered Asa's laughter, the way it could light up even her darkest days. The song was not just a performance; it was a cry for the love she could no longer hold.

Verse after verse, she poured her soul into the performance, yet instead of the sweet thrill of love, a crushing wave of grief engulfed her. The ache in her chest grew tighter with every note, and tears threatened to spill as she sang about love that felt unreachable.

After the performance, the applause echoed in her ears, but it felt hollow. Rora stepped off stage, her heart heavy, when she unexpectedly bumped into Hyein. Surprise flickered across Hyein's face, quickly replaced by concern.

"Rora," Hyein said softly, "I didn't expect to see you here."

Rora forced a bitter smile, the weight of her past crashing down on her. "I guess this really is karma, huh? Just like you said to me before," she murmured, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"You think you can just play with people's hearts and get away with it?" she remembered Hyein saying to her, voice filled with venom. "One day, Rora, karma will catch up to you. You'll meet someone who will break your heart into pieces, just like you did to me."

"After everything I did... I never thought I'd end up feeling this lost."

Hyein studied her, seeing the pain etched in Rora's features. "You look like you're carrying the weight of the world," she said gently, stepping closer.

"I am," Rora admitted, her voice cracking. "I lost the woman I love. She was everything to me, and now... I'm just so empty."

Hyein listened to Rora's confession. She had once felt the sharp sting of heartbreak when Rora had turned away from her, and now she saw the same pain mirrored in Rora's eyes. "I can see you're suffering," Hyein said softly. "It's clear that your heart is breaking."

Rora nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I wrote all these songs about love, but now, it feels like I'm lying to everyone."

"They're beautiful songs," Hyein reassured her. "You have a way of capturing emotions that resonate with people. It's clear you're speaking from the heart."

"I just... love her so much," Rora said, the weight of her regrets spilling out. "I never meant to hurt you, Hyein. I was young and foolish, and now I see what it feels like to truly lose someone."

Hyein reached out, placing a comforting hand on Rora's shoulder. "It's okay to grieve," she said, her voice filled with compassion. "We all make mistakes. I've had my share of heartbreak, and it took time for me to heal. But I see how sincere you are now."

Rora's eyes widened in surprise, the warmth of Hyein's understanding wrapping around her like a lifeline. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling a flicker of hope amidst her despair. "I never expected forgiveness."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," Hyein said softly. "I forgive you, Rora. And I hope you find a way to forgive yourself too."

As they exchanged a final look, Rora felt a small sense of solace. It wasn't a solution to her heartache, but it reminded her that healing was possible. With Hyein's words echoing in her mind, she turned away, carrying the memory of Asa with her.

She knew the path ahead would be filled with challenges, but maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to honor Asa's love while learning to embrace the future.

As Rora walked away, her silhouette fading into the bustling backstage area, Hyein’s expression shifted. The softness in her eyes, the compassion she had shown Rora, was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating glint. She stood still for a moment, watching Rora disappear, and then, almost imperceptibly at first, she let out a bitter laugh.

It was low, restrained, as if she was trying to keep it from spilling over, but the irony of the situation clawed its way out. Hyein shook her head, her lips curling into a smirk. "She deserves this," she muttered under her breath, the bitterness evident in her voice. "After all, she shattered my heart like it meant nothing."

The memory of Rora breaking her heart was still vivid—Rora's cold rejection, the way she had played with her emotions, leaving Hyein to pick up the pieces of her shattered feelings. She had tried to move on, tried to let go of the resentment, but seeing Rora in such anguish stirred something in her. It was cruel, but part of her felt vindicated, like some cosmic justice had finally come full circle.

"Funny how things work out," Hyein whispered to herself, her laugh growing a bit louder, more sardonic. She almost pitied Rora now, but that pity was tinged with satisfaction. Rora had taken Hyein’s love for granted, and now, she was paying the price. It was almost poetic.