Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 106

Chapter 106 – Too Grown to Be This Confused
Miexha's Unconscious State — 20 Years in the Future (First time-travel)

The first thing Miexha felt was warmth.

She blinked.

White sheets. White walls. A quiet, sterile room. Machines blinking softly beside her.

Her body felt wrong.

Too heavy. Like she had been asleep for years—buried inside her own bones.

She tried to move.

Her fingers twitched. Slow.

Then— A face came into view.

Zatariel, but older.

His hair was longer now, tied loosely at the back. Shadows clung beneath his eyes, deep and permanent.

But it was still him. Still, the one her heart recognized first, the one she had once imagined a lifetime with.

"Riel...?" she breathed.

He flinched. Like the sound of her voice had struck something fragile inside him.

His eyes widened— Then filled.

"You're awake..." he whispered, disbelief cracking through every word.
"You—hell—you actually woke up..."

He dropped to one knee, careful, like sudden movements might break the moment.

Only then did she notice— The child in his arms.

A little girl. Brown curls. Hazel eyes.

Eyes that she knew had once looked at her from a dream.

Zatariel gently set her down.

"Ariel, baby," he murmured, brushing her hair back. "Just like we practiced, okay? Be gentle... Mama just woke up."

The girl nodded, clutching his sleeve before peeking at Miexha— like she was something magical.

Zatariel turned back, reaching for Miexha's hands.

His touch was warm.

Familiar. But somehow different.

His hands were older—stronger, marked by time.

And there— Faint, shifting beneath his skin—

Vines. Thin, living patterns curling along his forearms like something breathing under the surface.

Miexha frowned slightly, her mind struggling to keep up.

"How do you feel?" he asked quickly, his voice unsteady.
"Are you in pain? Hungry? Thirsty? Cold? Do you want tea? Ice cream? Or—" he gave a weak, breathless laugh, "—do you want to punch Jayson?"

Miexha stared at him.

There were too many questions.

Where was Silver Island?
What happened to the field trip?
Why did he look like this—older, tired—like time had carved something out of him?
And why—

Why was there a child who looked like her?

Her lips parted.

But only one question came out.

"...Am I married?"

Zatariel's smile faltered.

"You don't remember?" he asked gently.

He glanced at the little girl, who had crouched down, now fascinated by the buttons on his coat.

Then back at her.