[Folded Page]Flashback, Part IIThe phone rang just past three in the morning.The burner, tucked beneath a drawer in the dresser, buzzed once—twice—its low hum slicing through the silence like a blade. Jess hadn’t been asleep. Not really. His body had settled, eyes closed for just minutes, but his mind had remained wired, straining through the dark for sounds that didn’t belong.His hand moved automatically, fingers closing around the phone, the sickening feeling of dread blooming in his stomach before his brain could even process why. Something was wrong. He knew it.The moment he answered, his voice was rough, hoarse from a mix of exhaustion and a deep, gnawing fear.“Reiley?” The word came out more as a prayer than a question, but it was too late. His heart was already sinking.The voice on the other end wasn’t hers. It was too calm. Too controlled.“Jessen,” the woman said. Her tone was efficient, practiced — not one ounce of emotion, not one crack of humanity breaking through.
MatthiasAlthea's condition was getting worse, to the point she had to get into an operation room.Time did not make everything calmer; instead, every second scraped across my nerves like the edge of a dull blade. Each tick of the wall clock sounded louder than the last, a metronome counting down to something I couldn’t name. The longer I sat there, the more I felt like I was unraveling by degrees, breath by breath.I sat stiffly in the dimly lit waiting area just past the ICU doors, one foot tapping without rhythm against the waxed linoleum floor. That smell—the sour tang of antiseptic—clung to everything: the walls, the plastic seats, and the inside of my throat. It mixed with the faint scent of coffee long gone cold and something metallic, like the memory of blood. The air was cool, but my jacket stuck to me anyway, and every breath I took felt borrowed.I tried to distract myself by flipping through a magazine left on the table, but the words blurred together and the pictures seem
MatthiasThe elevator groaned as it descended, like the machine itself was reluctant to take me where I was going. Each floor ticked past with a hollow ding, echoing up the shaft like a countdown I hadn’t agreed to. Somewhere in the stillness between the fifth and the fourth floor, I caught my reflection in the polished steel of the doors; drawn face, bloodshot eyes, jaw clenched so tight it ached. I looked like a man walking into something he might not walk out of.The feeling of unease settled in the pit of my stomach, growing heavier with each passing second. The soft hum of the elevator's motor seemed to mock me, as if it knew the uncertainty that lay ahead. I tried to shake off the sense of foreboding, reminding myself that I had a job to do, a mission to complete. But as the elevator finally reached the ground floor and the doors slid open with a hiss, I couldn't help but wonder if I was walking into a trap.I didn’t bother adjusting my coat when the doors opened. The hallway ou
AltheaWhen I thought everything was okay, all the walls were tumbling down. My life, my happiness, everything.I woke up in a haze, my head pounding as if I had been hit by a hundred storms. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung my nose, and I felt the unfamiliar weight of a hospital blanket over me. My limbs were heavy, uncooperative, as if they belonged to someone else, and my chest felt tight. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, the world around me blurry and indistinct.The pain was the first thing I recognized. A dull, aching throb in my lower abdomen, deep and unrelenting. I reached for it instinctively, as if I could touch the wound and make it go away. But when my hand brushed against the skin, it felt foreign—empty. As if the very thing I was searching for was no longer there.The memories rushed back like a flood.The blood. The pain. The terror that had washed over me in the moments before I lost consciousness. The frantic urgency of Matthias’s voice, calling my name, the
The night was cold and raining, but he stood still in front of his house, ignoring the wetness of his clothes. He stared ahead, into the dark, as those sentences from his uncle echoed in his mind."Your father is dead.""As his only son, you know the rule, Matt.""Our family will help to manage his burial, but you know the time is short. You need to do it as soon as you can. Being single won't help you, so please choose wisely.""We can talk about this tomorrow. Come to my place at lunch."He didn't need time to grieve. For God's sake, sadness was the last thing he could ever feel for his father. But that old man was the only reason he had a peaceful life like this. Yet it would be taken from him, sooner or later.He hated marriage. He truly did. And he knew it would only give those bastards more power to control him.He exhaled deeply as he ran his fingers through his hair. His uncle was right. The time was short, and he had better start soon. But for fuck sake, where should he star
AltheaLife has given me lots of surprises since I was born, and I thought it could not surprise me anymore. I’ve already gotten used to it. The first surprise life gave me was the fact that my parents might be a couple of bears, penguins, owls, or I was a failed product of a science research. I never knew who my parents were, or even if I ever had one. Granny always told me that it didn't matter. And it did not.Growing up, I had times when I believed Granny was a fairy godmother, minus the dresses and magic stick. She did not fly, but she held my hand every time I needed her to. Even when she chose to leave me all alone.“Guess what, Thea. I’m dying.” She said that after the doctor diagnosed her with the final stage of cancer. “I guess I’m winning the race.”It was not the first time she kept joking about her dying. I was only 10 back then, and I could barely tell the difference between cancer and a bad cold. Nobody taught me it could take the only person I had in my life.But that
MatthiasIt wasn’t easy to deal with a fool, but it was harder to hear an idiotic conversation happen in front of you.I’ve tried, okay. I tried to keep my mouth shut and let those two bastards spit all the bullshit they could. It wasn’t that surprising to hear how they complimented Jessen while they might be behind his death and my old man’s. But there was a limit of stupid things for me to hear and look at, and the way that girl didn’t even say anything that made sense really agitated me. How long should I watch her stupidity?“Will you say anything, or should I call the security?”I stopped and turned my back, and her gaze already met mine as her head tilted up a bit. “Why does it seem like you’re angrier than me?” she asked once more. “It should’ve been me, right? I’m the one that pulled all of a sudden but someone that I don’t even know.”“So you prefer to sit there all stupid and sound?” I shot back at her. “Do you really like hearing all of that bullshit?”“I don’t like to be
AltheaThere was a time when I wished I could live in a big mansion, with some maids ready to serve whatever I want, a dress you would notice from miles away, and an expensive wine to accompany me in a luxury bathtub.In my imagination, I could get anything I couldn’t in real life. “If I were born rich, I hope I get an endless supply of wine.” That was what Granny said when I asked her how if we had the chance to become rich. Due to her health, she never had alcohol–at least not on my watch. But that’s what imagination was all about, right? To want things you couldn’t have, to be able to do things you never did. It all came true now, yet I wasn’t sure what to feel. The bathtub was nice, and the wine from my kitchen cabinet was indeed the nicest wine I’ve ever had in my entire life. To be honest, that was my first wine. All of these were nice, but I still felt restless. I hated to admit it, but the last conversation I had with that annoying man kept bothering me.Leonardo and Josh to
AltheaWhen I thought everything was okay, all the walls were tumbling down. My life, my happiness, everything.I woke up in a haze, my head pounding as if I had been hit by a hundred storms. The sharp scent of antiseptic stung my nose, and I felt the unfamiliar weight of a hospital blanket over me. My limbs were heavy, uncooperative, as if they belonged to someone else, and my chest felt tight. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, the world around me blurry and indistinct.The pain was the first thing I recognized. A dull, aching throb in my lower abdomen, deep and unrelenting. I reached for it instinctively, as if I could touch the wound and make it go away. But when my hand brushed against the skin, it felt foreign—empty. As if the very thing I was searching for was no longer there.The memories rushed back like a flood.The blood. The pain. The terror that had washed over me in the moments before I lost consciousness. The frantic urgency of Matthias’s voice, calling my name, the
MatthiasThe elevator groaned as it descended, like the machine itself was reluctant to take me where I was going. Each floor ticked past with a hollow ding, echoing up the shaft like a countdown I hadn’t agreed to. Somewhere in the stillness between the fifth and the fourth floor, I caught my reflection in the polished steel of the doors; drawn face, bloodshot eyes, jaw clenched so tight it ached. I looked like a man walking into something he might not walk out of.The feeling of unease settled in the pit of my stomach, growing heavier with each passing second. The soft hum of the elevator's motor seemed to mock me, as if it knew the uncertainty that lay ahead. I tried to shake off the sense of foreboding, reminding myself that I had a job to do, a mission to complete. But as the elevator finally reached the ground floor and the doors slid open with a hiss, I couldn't help but wonder if I was walking into a trap.I didn’t bother adjusting my coat when the doors opened. The hallway ou
MatthiasAlthea's condition was getting worse, to the point she had to get into an operation room.Time did not make everything calmer; instead, every second scraped across my nerves like the edge of a dull blade. Each tick of the wall clock sounded louder than the last, a metronome counting down to something I couldn’t name. The longer I sat there, the more I felt like I was unraveling by degrees, breath by breath.I sat stiffly in the dimly lit waiting area just past the ICU doors, one foot tapping without rhythm against the waxed linoleum floor. That smell—the sour tang of antiseptic—clung to everything: the walls, the plastic seats, and the inside of my throat. It mixed with the faint scent of coffee long gone cold and something metallic, like the memory of blood. The air was cool, but my jacket stuck to me anyway, and every breath I took felt borrowed.I tried to distract myself by flipping through a magazine left on the table, but the words blurred together and the pictures seem
[Folded Page]Flashback, Part IIThe phone rang just past three in the morning.The burner, tucked beneath a drawer in the dresser, buzzed once—twice—its low hum slicing through the silence like a blade. Jess hadn’t been asleep. Not really. His body had settled, eyes closed for just minutes, but his mind had remained wired, straining through the dark for sounds that didn’t belong.His hand moved automatically, fingers closing around the phone, the sickening feeling of dread blooming in his stomach before his brain could even process why. Something was wrong. He knew it.The moment he answered, his voice was rough, hoarse from a mix of exhaustion and a deep, gnawing fear.“Reiley?” The word came out more as a prayer than a question, but it was too late. His heart was already sinking.The voice on the other end wasn’t hers. It was too calm. Too controlled.“Jessen,” the woman said. Her tone was efficient, practiced — not one ounce of emotion, not one crack of humanity breaking through.
[Folded Page]FlashbackThe rain battered the windows of the small house like fists of fury, the storm outside a violent mirror of the one raging within. Wind shrieked through the trees like lost souls, and every thunderclap seemed to rattle the very bones of the house.Reiley Alden paced the length of the living room, her bare feet soundless against the worn, splintered hardwood. She moved like a caged thing, restless, hunted. In the cradle tucked tightly into the corner — the safest corner she could find — baby Althea slept fitfully, her tiny face scrunched in some fretful dream only infants understood. The occasional twitch of her small hands made Reiley’s heart ache in a way that almost brought her to her knees.The storm outside was nothing compared to the one brewing inside her chest. She longed for it to pass, for the world to somehow become kind again — but some part of her, the part that had survived too much already, knew it never would.She paused by the fireplace, the flic
MatthiasA panic attack slammed into me like a freight train the moment they wheeled her through the emergency room doors.Althea lay so still on the gurney, her skin almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights, her breathing shallow and uneven, as if each breath cost her more than she could give. Her head lolled slightly to one side, and the sight of it—of her, usually so vibrant and stubbornly full of life, now fragile and terrifyingly still—carved something brutal and cold through my chest, a feeling I couldn't shake even as I stumbled forward.I tried to follow—I needed to follow—but a nurse stepped into my path, palm up, firm but not unkind. "Sir, you have to wait here. We'll update you as soon as we can," she said, her voice kind but leaving no room for argument."No—" I rasped, the sound of it cracking out of me, unfamiliar and raw. "I’m sorry," she said again, softer this time, her eyes flickering with sympathy. "Please. Let us help her."Helplessness crashed over
AltheaThe world tilted when I tried to sit up, but I was okay. My stomach did a little dance, and I bit my lip, blinking against the wave of nausea that swept over me. The old couch moaned as I settled back into its cushions, pulling the cozy blanket even tighter around my shoulders, as if it could hold me together."Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Then, Matthias's voice broke through the quiet, low and urgent.I shook my head firmly, even though the motion made the room spin again. "I'm doing well, Matt," I said, though I could see he was worried. "It's just a feeling of nausea. It's just the usual stuff that happens during pregnancy."Matthias remained seated near the window, but the tension in his body was almost tangible. His arms were crossed, his broad shoulders stiff beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Golden shafts of fading afternoon light slanted across the room, casting long shadows that made everything feel both too still and too fragile."You've bee
Folded PageThe room was pretty dark, with only a desk lamp lighting up a bit, making everything look a bit dull and sickly. The curtains were drawn tight, shutting out the world, as if even the night outside didn't deserve to witness what was about to go down.He was sitting still, and you could barely see him because he was so dark. The only sign of his anger was the soft, regular tapping of his finger against the armrest.On the desk, a small bottle of medicine sat upright — harmless at first glance, and pretty ordinary.But it wasn't a typical situation.Not to him.Not to her.And definitely not to Matthias Cox.He took a slow, thoughtful breath as he leaned forward, his hand hovering over the bottle before finally picking it up. The glass felt cold against his skin, but he welcomed the chill. It helped him think. It reminded him why he had waited so long for this.Althea; The ideal crack in Matthias's armor.He was turning the bottle slowly between his fingers, studying it like
"Oh, God. The meeting was finally over."I let my head drop to the table with a soft thud, not even bothering to hide my exhaustion. The sleeves of my blouse took most of the impact, but that didn't stop me from letting out a sigh - long, dramatic, maybe even a little whiny. I deserved it. Today's meeting had been a slog. Convincing investors that art had value-not just financial, but cultural, emotional-was like pulling teeth with a teaspoon. Worst of all, I actually liked the project.Tristan laughed and placed a cold bottle of water at my elbow. "You survived. Barely.""I deserve an award," I muttered without lifting my head. "Preferably something shiny. Or chocolate. Or edible. All three, actually.""Edible awards," he mused. "There's a startup idea in there somewhere."I groaned. "Don't make me think about business right now. I need food. Or I'll burn up.""I already ordered." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. "You like noodles, right?"That made