Autumn is a second spring

172. How

Fluke's footsteps felt unusually heavy as he walked alone along the quiet pathway leading back to his cottage.

The rehearsal dinner had just ended. Technically, everything had gone perfectly.

Boun and Prem had finally cleared the misunderstanding that had been lingering between them for weeks. The tension that once followed them everywhere had completely disappeared. They were laughing again, standing close together like they always used to.

Kao and Earth's rehearsal dinner had gone far more smoothly than anyone expected. The evening had been peaceful, warm, and filled with laughter.

Even Eric and Jane-whom everyone had secretly expected to cause at least some kind of awkward scene-had remained quiet the entire time. They had smiled politely, chatted with guests, and behaved in a way that surprised everyone.

And Ohm...

Ohm had been mingling with his family so naturally. He had laughed, talked, and moved easily through the crowd like someone whose world had completely settled into place.

Everything seemed to have fallen into the right place.

Yet Fluke felt like he couldn't breathe.

The noise from the dinner still echoed faintly in his ears. The chatter, the laughter, the clinking glasses-it all lingered inside his head like a swarm of insects.

It was giving him a headache.

Still, throughout the entire dinner, Fluke had worn the same smile.

A perfect smile. A carefully practiced one. The kind of smile that hid every storm beneath the surface.

It was the same smile he had worn as a child when his parents called him during school vacations to tell him they wouldn't be able to visit that year either. The same smile he had worn while greeting guests at Darla's funeral [1]. The same smile his fans adored on stage and in interviews. A smile that revealed nothing.

He hadn't dared show his distress to anyone tonight. Not to Earth. Not to Prem. Not even to Ohm.

Inside, however, everything felt like it was tightening. He wanted to scream. He wanted to vent. He wanted to cry loudly without caring who saw him. But he couldn't.

So the only thing he could do was escape. That was why he had left early while everyone else was still sitting around chatting after dinner.

Fluke reached his cottage and unlocked the door.

The moment he stepped inside, a soft scent drifted into his senses. White musk.

He paused. Confusion flickered across his face. He slid the key card into the slot beside the door, and the lights flickered on.

Fluke froze.

The entire room looked different. For a moment he genuinely wondered if he had walked into the wrong cottage. Because the room he had left that morning looked nothing like this.

Everything was white.

The bed sheets were white-soft, pristine, and smooth. The curtains had been replaced with sheer white drapes that flowed gently with the breeze coming from the balcony door.

The walls were draped with delicate white fabric that softened the edges of the room. Even the furniture had been covered or replaced with pieces in pale ivory and pearl tones.

The space looked surreal. Like he had stepped inside a cloud.

The carpet beneath his feet was thick, fluffy, and pure white. It looked so soft that Fluke almost felt guilty standing on it with his shoes.