As the man stepped off the plane and made his way through the airport, his eyes were drawn to a girl walking in the opposite direction with a group of companions. She seemed engaged in conversation, but just before disappearing into the crowd, she suddenly turned toward him and waved.
For a moment, he hesitated, watching her retreat until she was out of sight. With a quiet sigh, he turned and continued on his way.
However, before he could take more than a few steps, he collided with someone moving at full speed. The impact sent the other man’s drink flying, splashing all over his shirt.
"Bro, sorry! I didn’t see you," the man quickly apologized, barely stopping before attempting to move past him.
"It’s okay," he replied, brushing off the mess.
But before he could react further, the man suddenly darted away, running as if being chased. A loud, determined voice cut through the noise of the airport.
"James Louie! Just wait until I catch you!"
A young woman came sprinting after him, her voice sharp with frustration.
The man who had been hit blinked in shock.
"James Louie?" he repeated under his breath, his eyes widening.
The name stirred something deep in his mind—an urgency, a realization he couldn't ignore. Without a second thought, he bolted after them, pushing past travelers and weaving through the crowd.
But by the time he reached the other side of the terminal, they were gone. He stood there for a moment, scanning the area, but there was no trace of either of them.
---
"Micay! Come here and give your uncle a hug. I missed my baby girl!"
Miguel’s warm voice filled the air as Micay stepped inside the house, closely followed by her older brother and his men.
With a bright smile, she approached her uncle, kissing his cheek before wrapping her arms around him.
"Are you tired from the trip?" Miguel asked, watching her with concern.
"A little," Micay admitted with a small yawn. "And I’m also kind of sleepy."
Miguel chuckled. "Alright, go upstairs and get some rest. Your brother and I have some things to discuss."
Micay nodded. She turned to Louie, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading up to her room. One of the housemaids followed closely behind, carrying the rest of her belongings.
When they arrived at her bedroom door, Micay gestured toward her luggage. "Just leave it there. I’ll take care of it myself," she said.
The maid obediently set the bags down and turned to leave. But as she stepped away, Micay suddenly called out to her.
"Wait a minute."
The maid hesitated, then turned around, keeping her head bowed.
Micay frowned. "I don’t like it when people avoid looking at me while I’m talking," she said firmly.
"I’m sorry, Ma’am," the maid murmured.
"I don’t need an apology," Micay replied, her tone growing sharper.
Yet the maid remained still, her head still lowered.
Frustrated, Micay took a step closer. "I said, look at me when I’m talking to you."
She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the maid’s face.
The moment her eyes met the woman’s, her breath caught in her throat.
The maid slowly lifted her head, revealing a face that was eerily identical to Micay’s.
Shock paralyzed her. Her mind struggled to process what she was seeing.
Before she could react, the woman smirked—and in one swift motion, she lunged.
A sharp pain flared in Micay’s left side. The woman had stabbed her.
Micay gasped, stumbling backward. Her body screamed in pain, but she barely had time to register it. She hadn’t even seen the knife when the woman pulled it from behind her uniform.
As she staggered, she didn’t notice the luggage behind her. Her heel caught against it, sending her tumbling to the floor.
The woman advanced, ready to strike again. But Micay’s instincts took over. Rolling to the side, she narrowly avoided the second attack. With a surge of adrenaline, she kicked the woman in the stomach, sending her staggering back.
The woman barely flinched. She simply grinned, her smile twisted with something dark and unhinged.
Micay’s pulse pounded in her ears.
"Brother!" she shouted, her voice filled with desperation.
Pain pulsed from her wound, but something deeper—the raw fear clawing at her chest—terrified her even more.
"Brother! Uncle Miguel!" she called out again.
She began retreating, her legs weak beneath her. Her body trembled, her breaths coming in uneven gasps.
It wasn’t just the attack that unsettled her—it was the overwhelming, suffocating terror.
She called out once more, but no one answered. No footsteps, no hurried voices.
Nothing.
Summoning what little strength she had left, she reached the stair railing and peered downstairs.
And there they were.
Louie. Miguel. Their men.
All of them sitting in the living room, engaged in cheerful conversation.
Her throat tightened.
"LOUIE!" she cried, her voice shaking. "Louie, what are you doing?!"
She expected him to look up. To react.
But he didn’t.
No one did.
It was as if she wasn’t even there.
A cold whisper brushed against her ear.
"No matter how you try to escape… death will always find you."
Micay’s entire body went rigid.
Slowly, she turned around.
The woman—her reflection—stood behind her once again, the knife still clutched in her hand.
Micay’s breath hitched as she watched, horror-stricken.
The woman met her gaze, her lips curling into a slow, haunting smile.
Then, without hesitation, she raised the blade to her own throat.
Micay’s heart pounded violently against her ribs.
And then the woman slit her neck.
Blood spilled down her front, yet she kept smiling.
At the same time, Micay’s hands flew to her own neck.
A warm, wet sensation met her fingers.
Blood.
It was happening to her, too.
The woman’s voice echoed one last time.
"Remember, Micay… I am you, and you are me."
Darkness swallowed her.
"Micay! Micay!"
A familiar voice called her name.
Micay’s eyes fluttered open.
Louie was staring at her, his face creased with worry.
"You were having a nightmare," he told her softly.
Her breath was still uneven. Slowly, she sat up, reaching for the water bottle he handed her. She took a sip, her hands trembling slightly, before handing it back.
"Just wake me up when we get home," she murmured.
Then, without another word, she closed her eyes again.