When Rania Safi's life crumbles in a mere six months, Officer Johan Li is left with unrequited emotions and unanswered questions. On the other end of the same city, Roman Sinclair and Elham Khan find themselves on the two side of the same coin.
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The breeze from the ocean whispered through her hair, a gentle caress against the weight of her worries as she gazed at the distant horizon. The briny scent of salt soothed her anxiety, though it did little to calm the relentless pounding of her heart. Part of her wished that the retreating waves could carry away the wounds and scars of the past six months, erasing the pain that clung to her like a second skin. But as the waves surged back with renewed vigor, they brought with them the stark reminder of her reality: her wounds were still raw, her collar bone fractured, and she still had memories of a nightmare she couldn't escape from. She was the one who had to pick up the phone and shatter her parents' world by revealing the painful truth of what had happened to her and what she had become.
Her fingers shook as she dialed the number from memory; each press of the keys was a suffocating reminder that she was about to unload her pain on them. With each ring echoing on the other end, an unbearable weight settled deeper into her chest, squeezing her heart. It felt as though she was about to punish her parents for sins they had never committed. The turmoil twisted more and more inside her with each ring. She wished she could spare them the pain, but it was inevitable.
"Hello?" Her mother's soft yet warm voice echoed through the phone as she placed it on the table. The sound was both a comfort and a knife, cutting deep. Instantly, Rania covered her mouth, desperate to stifle the sobs and trap the screams that longed for her mother's hug—the hug that could make the world feel safe again. "Hello?" The word echoed again from the phone's speaker. Rania stared at the phone, hoping for a miracle to take her back six months so she wouldn't have to do this. The words and screams stuck in her throat as she stretched the moment, hoping to delay her mother's pain as much as she could.
"Mama," she whispered in a trembling voice before her mother could hang up on an unknown number.
"Rani? Where have you been? Whose number is this? I've been trying to reach you for more than a week! Your phone was off, and when I called Asad, he said you were in the U.S. to renew your green card. I was so worried about you." Her mother's words rushed through the phone, laced with concern. Each word pulled at Rania's heart. She was about to shatter their illusion—that the world she had built for them through her words was a facade. A facade she should have broken long ago.
"Mama," she managed to say it once more, but it came out cracked, filled with longing for home and her mother's arms around her. That single, broken syllable held her desperate plea for comfort, for her mother, for her family.
"Rani? Rania, I'm scared. What's going on? Why are you crying?" Her mother's voice trembled on the other end. In that moment, Rania wished for a portal that could transport her in an instant, placing her back in her mother's embrace.
She couldn't find the words to retell her story, the exhaustion weighing heavily alongside the words clawing at her throat. With shaky fingers, she pressed the video icon, allowing her phone to narrate her story for her. The bruises on her skin, still in the process of healing, painted a raw and vivid testament to her pain, each mark a brutal reminder of the cruelty she had endured. The morning sun illuminated her bruises, making them hauntingly visible—like ghosts of her past coming to life once more.
