Faded Dawn Light

1. Start Fading

Arunika Dianti had always carried the weight of promises—ones made to the living and the dead. To her late mother, she promised obedience to her father, a vow that now strangled the remnants of her own dreams. To her father, she pledged sacrifice, even when it meant abandoning herself. And to Mikha, a man whose presence chilled her to the bone, she promised nothing, though fate had placed her squarely in his hands. Mikha Willem Kohl was like a storm on the horizon—cold, unpredictable, and inescapable. His pale blue eyes betrayed no emotion, but behind them simmered a need she couldn't understand. They were cousins in the most technical sense, connected by tangled family threads, but in Mikha's gaze, there was no warmth of kinship—only possession. He was a man used to control, and she was the woman he had waited for too long. Their engagement had stretched for years in eerie limbo, a fragile arrangement dictated by duty and unspoken history. And now, with her father's life hanging in the balance, Mikha saw his chance—not to save her, but to claim her.

Arunika's small, dimly lit room in her kosan. The faint hum of traffic outside fills the silence. She sits cross-legged on her bed, holding her phone close as she waits for the call to connect. On the other side of the screen, Mikha lounges casually in what looks like a sleek apartment in Bangkok—his hair slightly tousled, wearing a dark hoodie.

The screen flickers, and Mikha's face appears. His sharp blue eyes meet hers through the digital distance.

Mikha: "You look exhausted."

Arunika: (sighs) "I am. I just got back from the hospital."

Mikha leans closer to the camera, resting his chin on his hand. His usual cold demeanor softens, if only slightly.

Mikha: "So... how did it go?"

Arunika's expression darkens. She exhales slowly, trying to hold back the frustration bubbling within her.

Arunika: "He won't do it. I tried, Mikha. I begged him, but Ayah—he says he'll only go through with the surgery if... if I get married."

Mikha's brow furrows. He clicks his tongue, leaning back against the chair with an exasperated sigh.

Mikha: "This again? Nika, why are you still chasing after his approval?"

Arunika clenches her jaw. She grips her phone tighter, feeling the familiar sting of helplessness.

Arunika: "He's my father, Mikha. I promised Mom I'd always obey him... even if it's hard."

Mikha's lips press into a thin line, his icy stare pinning her to the screen. His patience is wearing thin.

Mikha: "You can't keep living like this. You're sacrificing everything for a man who's holding your life hostage."

Arunika's voice wavers, but her resolve remains.

Arunika: "I have to. I owe it to him."

Mikha runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. For a moment, the line falls silent, filled only with the distant hum of his ceiling fan.

Then, he speaks again—his voice lower, measured, dangerous.

Mikha: "There's only one way I can help, Nika."

Her heart skips a beat at the shift in his tone.

Arunika: "What do you mean?"

Mikha leans closer to the camera, his gaze piercing.

Mikha: "If you really want me to fix this—if you want your father to stop this madness—I will. But there's a price."

Arunika's breath hitches. She knows Mikha well enough to sense that he's about to cross a line, but she can't look away.