Ellaya

The courtroom was thick with anticipation, the silence pressing down like a weight on everyone present. Ellaya Stone stood tall, the faint glow of fluorescent lights casting sharp shadows on her face. Her shoulders were squared, her chin slightly lifted, but her eyes burned with defiance as she uttered those damning words: *“ I Plead guilty.”*

A collective gasp rippled through the room. The judge, an imposing figure wrapped in flowing black robes, raised an eyebrow, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Ms. Stone, are you absolutely certain you wish to say nothing in your defense?”

A sardonic smile curled at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t a smile born of joy but one laced with bitterness. “I, Ellaya Stone, accept responsibility for all of my crimes.” Her voice was steady, each word sharp and clear. “As Mr. Iden Ruan’s personal assistant at Ruan Corporation, I stole and sold the company’s proprietary information to the M&D group. I also poisoned Mr. Alex Ruan, leaving him comatose.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of her confession crashing into them like waves against a cliff. A murmur of disbelief rustled through the gathered crowd. All eyes turned to the man sitting across from her—Iden Ruan. His gaze was fixed on her, unblinking, as though he were trying to pierce through her façade. His hands rested on the edge of the table in front of him, fingers twitching ever so slightly. Anger simmered beneath his composed exterior, but there was something else in his eyes—something harder to place. Regret, perhaps. Or sorrow.

The judge’s gavel came down with a resounding *crack.* “Life in prison is the sentence for Ms. Ellaya Stone.”

The officers approached her, their handcuffs glinting under the stark lighting. Without hesitation, Ellaya extended her wrists toward them, her movements fluid, almost graceful. Pride emanated from her like an unyielding flame, even as the cold steel locked around her wrists. She turned her head slightly, her gaze finding Iden once more. That mocking smile played on her lips, infuriatingly calm.

It was as though she were telling him, *You’ve won the battle, but I’ve won the war.*

Her boots clicked against the polished floor as she walked toward the exit, flanked by officers. Just as she reached the door, a voice cut through the silence—rough, desperate. “Laaya…”

She paused, her step faltering just slightly. But she didn’t turn back. And then she was gone.

“*Laaya…*” The name tore through the stillness of the room as Iden jolted upright in bed, his chest heaving. Sweat clung to his skin, his breathing ragged as though he’d just run a marathon. He ran trembling fingers through his dark, disheveled hair, trying to ground himself. For years, this dream had haunted him. Not a dream, exactly—it was a memory. A nightmare he couldn’t escape, no matter how hard he tried.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood and grabbed the pack of cigarettes resting on the nightstand. He lit one with practiced ease, the flame briefly illuminating his sharp, weary features. The acrid smoke curled around him as he stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cool, brushing against his skin like a silent reprimand. Above, the stars glimmered faintly, but the moon’s glow seemed dimmer, replaced in his mind by the image of Ellaya’s face. Her piercing eyes, her mocking smile—she was everywhere, even now. She was a ghost that refused to let him go.

He took a drag from the cigarette, the tip glowing red in the dark. The smoke burned his throat, but it wasn’t enough to jolt him back to the present. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Somewhere behind him, he heard the soft pad of footsteps.

A gentle arm wrapped around his waist. “You’re awake,” a voice said, soft and familiar.

He turned his head slightly, his brows knitting as he looked down at her—the woman he had vowed to protect. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” His voice was gruff, heavy with the remnants of his dream.

She hesitated, her eyes searching his face. “I had a nightmare,” she murmured.

Iden sighed and turned away, his broad shoulders stiff. “You should go back to bed. It’s late.”

But she reached for his arm, holding him back. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I saw her… I saw her in my dream again.” She paused, her words catching in her throat. “She came back and stabbed me. Right in the heart.” Her grip on him tightened, her body pressing into his as she buried her face against his chest. “It felt so real…”

His arms hovered awkwardly for a moment before he sighed and rested a hand on her back. “It was just a dream,” he murmured, his voice low. “Even if she does come back, I’ll keep you safe.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder.

But she wasn’t reassured. Her gaze searched his face, brimming with uncertainty. “Do you think what we did was wrong?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Ellaya is gone, but she’s still between us. She’s always there…”

She searched his face, desperate for reassurance, but what she saw there wasn’t comfort. It was something darker—a shadow of guilt he refused to name. And she hated that, even now, Ellaya had the power to pull him away from her.

For a moment, his expression softened. But then his jaw tightened, and he turned his face away. Guilt clawed at his chest like a living thing, but his words were firm. “She got what she deserved.” The regret in his voice was barely concealed, and it hung in the air between them like an unspoken truth.

---

Far away, in the shadowed depths of a dark alley, another story was unfolding. Blood pooled on the ground, glistening under the faint glow of a streetlamp. The groans of broken men echoed through the narrow passage, their bodies sprawled in agony. A figure leaned casually against the wall, a cigarette perched between her fingers.

She lit her cigarette, the flame casting fleeting shadows on her face. She wasn’t here for revenge—no, that would come later. Tonight was just a message.

She exhaled slowly, smoke curling around her like a veil. Her boot connected with one of the men, sending him sprawling further into the filth. She walked forward, slow and deliberate, the rhythmic *click* of her heels the only sound. She stopped, turning her head slightly to glance back over her shoulder.

“Tell him I’m back,” she said, her voice laced with calm malice. Then, like a shadow slipping into the night, she was gone.

---

Iden’s car came to a stop in front of the old house. The building loomed ahead, its familiar silhouette bathed in moonlight. His pulse quickened as memories surged through him, relentless and unwelcome. The scent of flowers lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the rustling of leaves. His footsteps echoed sharply as he approached, the sound cutting through the oppressive stillness.

He reached the doorstep, his fingers brushing against the doormat. There it was—the key. The weight of four years bore down on him as he slipped it into the lock and turned it. The gate creaked open, and the house seemed to exhale, its silence suffocating.

He hesitated at the threshold, his hand trembling against the doorknob. This house had once been filled with her laughter, her presence. Now it was a tomb of memories he’d buried long ago—or tried to.

Every word of justification he had whispered to himself over the years felt thin now, like paper in the rain. He had told himself it was necessary, but was it really? Or had he just been too weak to stop it?

As he forced himself to step forward, the air inside was thick with dust, the scent of neglect mingling with something deeper—memories he’d tried to bury. His hand hovered over the light switch, but he hesitated, his chest tightening. He felt a tornado of emotions stirring within him, threatening to consume him. Taking a shaky step back, he froze.

A faint humming filled the air, soft and familiar. His breath hitched. “Laaya…” he whispered, his voice trembling. He stepped forward, the sound pulling him deeper into the house. The melody tugged at his mind, unraveling years of carefully constructed walls.

The melody seemed to seep into his bones, its familiarity clawing at his mind. His chest tightened, and his steps faltered. It wasn’t just a sound—it was a memory, raw and unrelenting.

He searched every room, the humming always seeming just out of reach. His heart pounded as he climbed the stairs. “Laaya…” he called again, louder this time. But the house remained still, the shadows mocking him.

At last, he stopped.

His breath caught as he stepped closer, his chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and yearning. It couldn’t be her… and yet, the outline of her figure, the stillness of her presence, was undeniable.

Against the far wall stood a slender figure, her outline illuminated faintly in the moonlight. She wasn’t moving, her gaze fixed on a wedding portrait hanging above the mantle. The couple in the photo smiled serenely, their joy frozen in time.

His voice cracked as he spoke, the name escaping him like a prayer: “Ellaya…”