Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 36

Engfa's POV:

It felt like I was stuck in a nightmare, a loop I couldn't escape from. The moment I saw her—those eyes, that familiar tilt of her head—kept replaying in my mind. Every blink, every breath, every step I took felt heavier, like I was sinking deeper into something I couldn't comprehend. The harder I tried to convince myself it wasn't real, the more my heart rebelled. I was sure it was her. I knew it was her.

Chompu had tried to calm me, her voice soft but tinged with worry, but I couldn't even hear her words properly. My own thoughts drowned everything else out. After an hour of fruitless attempts to reach me, she left, saying she needed time to process her own emotions. I didn't blame her. If I couldn't make sense of what I was feeling, how could she?

Now, I sat alone in my apartment, the dim light from the kitchen casting long shadows across the walls. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the pounding of my heart. My phone lay heavy in my hand, the screen dark. I stared at it, willing myself to find answers where none seemed to exist.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. The image of her walking away, stepping onto that bus without a single glance back, was burned into my memory. My chest felt tight, every breath a struggle as the questions overwhelmed me. Was she alive? How could she be alive? If she wasn't... then who—or what—had I seen? The possibilities clawed at me, each one more confusing and painful than the last.

Desperation boiled over, and before I could talk myself out of it, I unlocked my phone and scrolled through my contacts. My fingers hovered over the name Charles Austin. It felt like a betrayal to even consider calling him—after all, he had told me years ago that Charlotte was gone. But now, everything felt like a lie, a cruel joke I wasn't in on.

I pressed the call button, my hand trembling as I brought the phone to my ear. Each ring felt like an eternity, my heart pounding louder with every unanswered tone. Finally, the line clicked, and his voice came through, calm but tinged with confusion.

"Engfa?" he asked. "Is everything alright?"

I didn't even wait. The words tumbled out of me, sharp and frantic. "Where is she?"

There was a long pause, the kind that made my stomach drop. "I... I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

"Charlotte," I said, my voice trembling. "Where is she? I need to know, Mr. Austin."

Another silence. I could hear him inhale sharply on the other end, as though the question itself had struck him. "Engfa," he said carefully, "you've known for years... Charlotte is gone."

"No," I snapped, my voice rising as anger and frustration surged. "Don't say that. Just tell me where you buried her. Tell me where she is, so I can go. Please."

The line went quiet again, the silence dragging on so long I thought he might have hung up. Then his voice returned, softer now, almost hesitant. "Why are you asking me this? What's going on?"

"Because I saw her!" I yelled, the words echoing in the empty kitchen. My voice cracked, tears welling in my eyes as the desperation clawed its way to the surface. "I saw her, Mr. Austin. Not once, but twice. She was here, in Seattle. I know it was her!"

He inhaled sharply, the sound like a knife slicing through the air. "Engfa..."

"Don't tell me I imagined it!" I cut him off, my voice breaking. "She looked different, but it was her. I know it was her."

"Engfa," he said again, his tone heavy with something I couldn't place—regret, perhaps, or guilt. "I'm... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I demanded, the tears spilling over now, my voice trembling with anger and hurt. "For lying to me? For letting me believe she was dead? Or for hiding her from me?"