Mask ( COMPLETED )

MASK 32: EPILOGUE

ATHIRA'S POV.

Silence feels different when it's earned. Not the kind of silence that comes from peace—no. This one was heavier. Settled. Like the world had finally exhaled after holding its breath for too long.

The estate was quieter now. Too quiet. No more gunshots echoing through marble halls. No more footsteps that didn't belong. No more whispers hiding knives behind them.

Just... stillness.

And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I had to listen for danger between heartbeats.

I stood by the balcony, fingers lightly gripping the cold railing, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sky melted into soft gold and fading blue. The wind brushed past me gently, carrying nothing but the scent of clean air—no smoke, no blood, no lies.

It almost felt unreal.

Behind me, I heard footsteps. Slow. Familiar.

I didn't turn around immediately. I already knew.

"Still running away?" His voice came out quiet. Just... there. Alive in a way that made something inside my chest tighten.

I closed my eyes for a second before finally turning.

My father stood a few steps away from me—no longer the man I used to fear, no longer the man who built walls instead of bridges.

Just... my father.

Alive.

Not buried under fake ashes. Not lost in a lie. Alive because I chose it. Because we planned it. Because the bomb that was supposed to end him... was never meant to.

The memory flashed briefly in my mind—

The car. The explosion. The fire that swallowed everything whole. The screams. The silence that followed.

Everyone thought he died that day. Everyone believed it. The traitors celebrated quietly behind their masks, thinking they had finally won.

But what they didn't know— Was that my father was already gone before the explosion even happened.

Taken by the Z Organization. Protected and hidden alive just exactly how we planned it.

I swallowed, forcing myself back to the present.

"You took your time," I said, my voice steady, but softer than I intended.

He let out a quiet breath, stepping closer but not too close like he didn't know where he stood with me yet. Maybe he didn't.

"I didn't think..." he paused, his jaw tightening slightly, "I didn't think I'd still get the chance to see you like this."

I tilted my head slightly. "Like what?"

His eyes met mine fully now.

"Alive," he said.

That word hit differently. Because for the longest time... I wasn't. Not really.

I let out a small, humorless breath. "You planned that part well."

He didn't smile. Didn't even try.

"I planned a lot of things," he admitted quietly. "But losing you wasn't one of them."

The wind picked up slightly, brushing past us like it was trying to carry away everything that had been left unsaid between us for years.

I crossed my arms, not defensively—just... holding myself together.

"You were willing to make me hate you," I said. Not accusing. Just stating it. His eyes dropped for a second.

"Yes." He said this with no hint of hesitation nor excuse but just the truth.