A Story That Won't End

Ayla

"I promised I'd be strong for you. Please... don't go."

That voice kept echoing in my head, faint but relentless-like a little boy calling out from far away. I remembered his eyes-dark, full of determination-but... who was he?

Everything blurred when I saw that boy being dragged toward a car. I wanted to scream, to help him, but my body betrayed me. My head throbbed violently, my legs felt like stone, and in the next second, the world spun... then went black.

*

When I woke up, everything was white. Blinding light glared down on me. An IV line was stuck into my arm, piercing my pale skin. I let out a shaky breath, trying to make sense of it all.

But something felt strange. This didn't smell like a hospital. No sharp scent of antiseptic. Instead... there was this sweet, delicate, slightly bitter fragrance filling the air-soothing yet suffocating.

I'd smelled this before. I just couldn't remember where.

"Ayla..." A voice broke through my thoughts. Soft. Relieved. "Thank God you're awake."

I turned my head slowly. Mom's blonde hair framed her face perfectly, cascading over her shoulders. Her crystal-blue eyes-the same eyes I inherited, the ones I'd always admired-looked clouded with worry. Her porcelain skin was flawless, but the forced smile on her lips gave her away. She was terrified.

"Mom..." My voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

"Oh, honey." She grabbed my hand and held on tight. "You scared us to death. Do you know that?"

I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper. "I... I had a dream, Mom. I saw... a boy. He-"

Before I could finish, a sharp pain shot through my head. Images flickered in my mind: small dirty hands, a pair of wounded eyes, a faint voice begging for something. I clenched my eyes shut, groaning.

"Ayla? Ayla!" Mom's panicked voice grew louder as her hands gently patted my cheeks. "Sweetheart, don't push yourself. You're still weak."

I took a deep breath, forcing the pain to loosen its grip. When I opened my eyes again, the door slid open.

A man walked in, followed by a doctor in a white coat.

And with just one look, I knew-it was my father. Virone Corsetti.

A name that could make grown men tremble. His jet-black hair was slicked back, his tailored black suit fitting like armor. His presence filled the room-cold, commanding, lethal. Every step he took across the marble floor sounded like a warning shot, forcing me to lower my gaze without meaning to.

"Ayla." His voice was deep, firm, and absolute. No hesitation. He stopped at the foot of my bed, staring at me with those unreadable gray eyes. "How do you feel?"

"A little dizzy," I murmured.

He nodded, then shifted his attention to the doctor. They spoke briefly-I only caught words like "stable" and "complete rest." Then the doctor left. Now it was just me, Mom, and the man who wasn't just my father-he was the dark legend of Sicily.

"What happened at the campus..." Papa began, his tone making my heart pound. "...won't happen again."

I looked at him, waiting.

"Rhett acted recklessly. He started a fight with another student. That was careless." His gaze hardened-but not at me. It was like he was looking past me, straight at Rhett's shadow lingering in the room. "He'll be punished for this. Because of him, your PTSD flared up."

That name stabbed me like a knife. Rhett. My stubborn, overbearing cousin.

"Where is he, Papa?" My voice was quiet but sharp.

Papa's jaw tightened for a split second. "Don't concern yourself with him."

My teeth clenched. "You know he went too far. Rhett always-always does whatever the hell he wants! And now I-" My breath hitched. "I almost-"

"Enough." One word from him was enough to shut me down. "You need rest. Not this conversation."

But I knew. I could feel it-he was hiding something. The way he avoided my eyes, the way his fingers curled into a fist for just a second before relaxing again. This wasn't just about being mad at Rhett. It was something more.

"Papa-"

"Ayla." His tone softened, but the authority in it didn't budge. "Leave this to me."

And with that, he turned and walked out. His black coat swept behind him as the door clicked shut.

"Mom..." My voice cracked. "Do you know where Rhett is? I need to talk to him. End this. He punched that guy right in front of me-just because he was close to me."

Mom sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing my messy hair back. "Sweetheart, don't think about him right now. Just focus on getting better, okay?"

I turned away, staring at the white wall. My chest burned with anger and frustration. Rhett always managed to ruin my life whenever I tried to live normally.

"Mom, he's suffocating me."

"Shh... Ayla, listen to me." She pulled me into a soft hug. "You're safe here. That's what matters."

I took a deep breath, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. But that scent hit me again-the same intoxicating fragrance from before. I glanced toward the nightstand and saw it: a single elegant white flower in a glass vase.

"Who put that there?" I asked.

Mom followed my gaze. "I did. The courier dropped it off earlier. No name. Just this." She picked up a small card tucked between the petals and handed it to me.

Neat handwriting on cream paper:

Get well soon. The world's not done waiting for you.

- RC

I frowned. RC? Who the hell was that?

"Mom, this..."

She just gave a small shrug. "Maybe a friend of yours?"

I bit my lip. RC. I knew all my friends' initials. None matched.

"Oh, and..." Mom handed me a small box. "New phone. Yuna said your old one was... completely trashed."

I turned it on and popped in my SIM card. As soon as the screen lit up, my fingers flew across the keyboard.

Me: Yun, what the hell happened? Rhett... River... explain.

Silence. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Then my phone buzzed. A single reply-just a photo.

My breath caught as I stared at the screen. It was River. Lying on the campus infirmary bed. His head was bandaged, dried blood staining his temple.

My heart hammered against my ribs. My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles hurt. The pain in my head came roaring back-this time fueled by white-hot rage.

Damn it, Rhett... what the hell did you do?