The Next Day
Isa knocked gently on Chris's door, her knuckles barely grazing the wood. The sound was dull, almost silent. When no response came, she clenched her fist and bit her lower lip. Her handbag was still in his room from the emergency, and last night, she couldn't bring herself to go back and retrieve it.
She stared at the door, lifted her hand again to knock—but paused, then slowly let her arm fall, flexing her fingers. Chris hadn't said a word since she broke down. She had no idea if she'd been fired. The thought made her chest tighten and her stomach churn.
She needed to leave soon.
Maybe… maybe he'll change his mind.
Gripping the doorknob, Isa slowly turned it and peeked inside like a thief. Her breath hitched when she saw Chris lying on his side, facing the door, his face buried in the pillows.
Tight-lipped, she studied him.
Better to sneak in and grab the bag unnoticed.
She nudged the door open a little more, her pulse racing. Leaning her head inside, she spotted her handbag at the foot of the bed, just below Chris's head. Gritting her teeth, she scanned the short distance like a robot calculating the best path.
Isa slipped through the doorway, careful not to let the hinges creak. Holding her breath, she tiptoed in—each step like walking across glass suspended over a cliff.
Just as she reached for her bag, Chris stirred. She froze. When he stilled again, she grabbed the bag—but as she turned to leave, he groaned.
"Stacy… why do you stay… Stacy…"
Isa frowned and turned to him. His face was twisted in discomfort, sweat beading on his forehead, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut.
"Stacy…"
Her heart clenched. Before she knew it, her feet had moved on their own. She reached out and gently placed her hand on his forehead.
At her touch, his moans softened. His jaw relaxed. His breathing steadied.
Tears welled in Isa's eyes.
It was déjà vu—but this time, the roles were reversed.
…...
She had once lain on a hospital bed, shivering and muttering nonsense. But she remembered it—the soft touch on her forehead. She had moaned faintly, her eyes flickering open to meet a pair of striking blue eyes. Their gaze had held for a long moment before he looked away and cleared his throat.
"Are… are you okay?" he had asked.
She blinked, sat up, and looked around in confusion. She was in the school hospital, dressed in a pink patient gown. Her hands flew to her cheeks, her chest, her arms.
"I thought I was dead," she gasped. Then her eyes widened as she remembered the boy in the woods. "You!" she exclaimed. "Did… did you save me last night?"
She remembered falling into the swimming pool, flailing until her limbs went still. Then she had felt arms around her, her head resting on a warm chest. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven.
"So—it was you?" she whispered.
Chris had scratched his head awkwardly and smiled sheepishly. Without answering, he reached for the uniform folded beside the bed. "This is your school uniform. I—I'll leave now."
Isa had nodded with a faint smile. "Thank you."
Then her eyes had dropped to her wrist. She gasped. "Have you seen my bracelet?"
Chris raised a brow thoughtfully, then shook his head. "No. Did you lose it?"
"Oh no," Isa cried, clutching her left wrist. "My dad just gave it to me yesterday… I can't believe I already lost it." Her shoulders slumped.
Chris smiled. "At least you're alive."
Isa smiled at the memory.
He was always there when I needed help most.
She pulled her hand back from his forehead.
"I don't know if it's really you," she whispered, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. "But if I'm right… I hope you heal one day. I hope you find your way back to your real self." She clutched her bag with both hands.
Last night, she realized she couldn't save him. She wasn't the one he needed. Maybe… maybe her presence only reminded him of a life he wanted to forget. A life he'd buried. Maybe she was just pulling him back into something he'd already chosen to let go. If he really was the boy she remembered, maybe he had his reasons for pushing her away.
It was time to stop risking her job. Time to stop hoping. Time to just be his assistant.
Isa bowed slightly and turned to go.
"What are you doing here?"
The voice startled her. She nearly tripped, eyes wide. "Sir! Sir!" She turned around quickly and bowed. "Good morning, sir."
Chris groaned as he sat up, rubbing his temple with a frown. "Why are you here?" His voice was sharp.
"I… I forgot my bag here. I'm sorry," Isa said quickly, head bowed.
Chris let go of the sheets and slowly looked up. She dropped her eyes again as his gaze met hers.
He parted his lips, but didn't speak. His eyes lingered on her, then flicked away like he'd caught himself doing something wrong. He swallowed hard and got out of bed. He was in pajamas, his tousled hair falling over his forehead. His face was pale—but his eyes were cold.
Isa glanced at him. He looked nothing like her usual boss—the man with the flawless suits, slicked-back hair, and a posture that could freeze a room. This version of him looked… ordinary. Tired. Human. She lowered her gaze, but couldn't help being drawn to him. She wished she could look up fully to see what expression he wore now. Cute? Cold? Worn-out?
"I've decided," he said.
Isa stiffened. The commanding tone had returned. She dropped her head at once.
"You'll have to make up for your mess."
Isa looked up, eyes wide, colour rushing to her cheeks.
"I've decided to create new paintings," Chris continued. "You'll announce that the painting we lost will not be part of the exhibition. We'll use that to create buzz. An exclusive showcase for investors and VIPs—to assure them we're offering something better."
He picked up his phone and turned slightly toward her, eyes fixed on the screen. "We'll meet with key investors and guests to explain the new plan. There are four weeks until the exclusive exhibition, and one more week for the public showcase. I'll come up with fresh ideas to replace the exposed painting."
He looked up and paused. "And I need you to give this your all. No mistakes. No excuses."
Isa nodded quickly, a smile spreading across her face. "I'll give it everything I have. Thank you, sir. Thank you." She bowed again and again, breathless with relief.
"You're dismissed."
Isa turned quickly, afraid that one more second might undo his mercy. Her eyes shimmered with newfound hope.
Back in the room, Chris groaned and collapsed onto the bed. He clutched his head as his vision blurred and his heartbeat thundered for no clear reason. His hand dropped limp at his side.
Shaking, he reached into the drawer, grabbed his medication, and washed it down with water.
He blew out a shaky breath and shut his eyes.
Alex had warned him yesterday—his tumour was getting worse. He needed immediate treatment.
Chris hunched forward, gripping his knees as Isa came to mind.
She never changes, he thought with a bitter smile. She still doesn't believe in herself.
He pulled off his shirt, suddenly too hot.
Maybe… she hasn't stopped hiding yet.
Chris slumped forward, shoulders heavy.
She has no idea how much beauty she carries within.