Grace jolts awake, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Hah…" she exhales sharply, her breath shaky. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. The remnants of the dream cling to her, vivid and unsettling.
It's the same dream again—the same guy. His face is so clear in her mind, almost haunting. For days now, she has seen him in her sleep, almost five nights in a row. Each time, it's been a dream filled with terror, her hands trembling as she's scared to death and that's when the guy appears and extends his hand to her.
But this morning... there was more. There was something different. Today's dream unfolds with an unsettling backstory, something she hadn't felt before.
Grace quickly reaches for her notepad, scribbling the dream down, hoping to capture every detail before it slips away.
[I was captured by soldiers. They march me toward an old-fashioned car, something straight out of an early 1900s movie. I'm gripped by fear, my heart racing. The car's engine rumbles to life, but suddenly, there's chaos outside—shouts, a struggle between soldiers and a civilian.
Two of the soldiers in the car get out to intervene, and in that moment, I run. I run as fast as I can, my breath shallow, my legs like jelly. The sound of boots pounding behind me grows louder. They're coming after me, I can hear them. I turn a sharp corner, slipping behind a building.
I'm shaking, panic tightening its grip on my chest. The soldiers are frantically searching, their voices calling out, their footsteps echoing through the empty streets. If they catch me… it's over. I'll die. Then, out of nowhere, one soldier steps into the alley.
Our eyes meet—his cold and calculating. A chill runs through my body. Before I can react, he raises his stick to strike me. I brace myself, squeezing my eyes shut.
But then… nothing happens.
A thud. My eyes snap open.
A guy stands before me. He's tall—about six feet, with earnest, dark eyes that seem to pierce right through me. His face is symmetrical, with a sharp nose and thin lips, perfectly shaped, yet soft. His hair is tousled, but somehow it looks neat, as if he doesn't try too hard. He's beautiful, but not in an unsettling way. He's gentle. He raises a stick of his own, knocking the soldier away with a swift movement.
"Come, let's go," the guy says, extending his hand to me.
I hesitate, frozen in fear. I can't move. His hand lingers in the air, and after a moment, he reaches out again.
"Don't worry. You're safe," he reassures me, his smile warm, genuine.
When he smiles, the whole world seems to brighten. His smile is perfect, symmetrical, and it lights up everything around us, making the darkness of the alley fade away.]
The dream ends there, the feeling of safety still lingering as Grace slowly blinks herself back into the present. She finishes writing down every detail on her iPhone, her fingers trembling as she types. She stares at the words, trying to make sense of it all, but the mystery only deepens.
Finally, she slides out of bed, the cool morning air brushing against her skin. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and she whispers a silent prayer, seeking wisdom, trying to understand the meaning of the dream.
Without wasting time, she moves to the bathroom. A quick shower is all she needs—she's always been a fast showerer. Within ten minutes, she steps out, refreshed but still unsettled. The dream lingers, wrapping itself around her like a fog she can't escape.
Grace opens the suitcase, the one containing all of her clothes. As a minimalist, she's organized her wardrobe down to two large suitcases. This is the way she likes it—simple, manageable.
She pulls out a white short-sleeved tee shirt, neither too tight nor too loose. She owns four of them in four different colors, each one just the right fit. This is another one of Grace's preferences—comfort and uniformity.
Next, she slips on a red cardigan, again, not too fitted, not too baggy. It's perfect. Her hair, still damp from the shower, falls in soft waves to her upper chest. She quickly applies some sunscreen and a touch of lip oil. She doesn't wear makeup as she prefers to keep things minimal.
She grabs her laptop bag and heads out. The cool spring breeze greets her as she steps into the fresh air, ruffling her hair and kissing her skin. Grace walks down the street toward her favorite café. It's a quiet place, tucked in the corner of a bustling block. She sits by the window where the summer breeze flows gently through the open panes.
As she opens her laptop, the memories from her dream flood her thoughts. The face of that guy—the one from the dream, the one she's seen now five nights in a row—lingers in her mind. The dream is always the same.
He's there, stretching out his hand to her, offering her comfort in the midst of terror. But today, the dream felt different. She's remembered more—scenes before he appeared, details she hadn't recalled before. What does it all mean?
The realization makes her pause. The vividness of the dream still stirs her. How was it that tears had fallen from her eyes as she woke up? It feels surreal.
A notification on her phone pulls her from her thoughts—a text from her credit card company reminding her to pay the bill for the month. She sighs heavily. Her bank account is nearly empty. The weight of her financial troubles presses down on her chest. Her parents, both professors at a well-known university, had fallen victim to fraud a few years ago. The scammers left them in staggering debt, even taking control of their monthly wages.
As a result, Grace had to put a hold on her graduate studies. For the last five months, she's worked at a company for the sake of earning money, and has decided to quit and start writing the novel with a very small amount of savings she has from five months of working, thinking this is her last chance. This dream of hers, though... It's been haunting her for a week now, an eerie backdrop to her already stressful life.
With a frustrated sigh, Grace starts typing. She writes down the dream, hoping to make sense of it.
How can I remember his face so clearly? I don't think I've ever met him before, but he looks... familiar. Why does he feel like he's been a part of my life? she thinks to herself, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
That's when the bell rings, announcing her sweet potato latte is ready. Grace stands up, stretching a little, and walks to the counter to collect her drink.
"Alright, let's get back to this novel," she mutters, settling back into her seat with renewed focus. She takes a sip of the latte, the warmth comforting her as she dives back into writing.
Five minutes pass, and Grace is completely absorbed in her writing, fingers flying over the keys. Then, her phone rings with its default ringtone, pulling her out of her trance.
She glances at the screen. It's Maddison, her old friend from university. Maddison lives in Mellany, Europe now, and the two haven't seen each other in years. Though they occasionally chat, their conversations have become less frequent since graduation.
Why is Maddison calling all of a sudden? Grace wonders as she swipes to answer.
"Hey, Grace! How are you doing?" Maddison's voice is bright and cheery.
Grace smiles faintly, though the unease lingers within her. "I'm doing alright," she replies, though her thoughts scream, My family is drowning, how can I be okay?
Maddison continues, oblivious to Grace's inner turmoil. "That's great! You know, I miss you so much!"
"Of course, I miss you too," Grace says, forcing the words out.
"Well, so why don't you come and see me?" Maddison suggests casually.
Grace raises an eyebrow, caught off guard. "See you? Like... when?"
"Haha, actually, I'm getting married next week!"
"Next week?" Grace is taken aback, her surprise evident. She hasn't heard anything about Maddison's relationship in recent months.
"Yes, next week!" Maddison laughs, as if the timing isn't as wild as it sounds. "I know, you must be shocked. But get this—I only met him two weeks ago!"
"Wow, and you're getting married... Congratulations!" Grace says, her voice laced with disbelief, though she tries her best to sound genuine.
"Well, I'm sending you a flight ticket to Mellany, so you have to come!!!" Maddison adds excitedly.
Grace's eyes widen. "What? You're sending me the flight ticket?"
It's Saturday, and Grace can hardly believe it—she's just stepped off the plane at Mellany Airport. The air is warm and welcoming, the summer breeze gentle as it ruffles her hair. The airport is surrounded by lush greenery, and she can feel the freshness of the land the moment she steps outside.
This is her first time in Mellany, Europe, and although she's unfamiliar with the region, her excitement bubbles up. She's always dreamed of visiting Europe, and now that she's here, in this unfamiliar country, the adventure feels surreal.
"Oh, hello!" Grace waves her hand as a taxi pulls up beside the curb.
The taxi rolls to a gentle stop, its engine humming smoothly to a halt.
"Hello," Grace greets the driver as she opens the door.
The taxi driver, wearing large black glasses, smiles widely and glances back at her. "Where to go?"
Grace shows him the name of her hotel on her phone, and the driver nods without a word. To her surprise, he doesn't even type the address into the navigation system.
Well, I guess this hotel is pretty famous if he doesn't need directions, Grace thinks as the driver starts the engine.
As the car pulls away from the airport, Grace rolls down the window. The breeze feels amazing as she takes in the view of the streets. Soon, they're cruising along local roads lined with antique and historical buildings.
"Wow, this really is Europe," Grace says in awe, her eyes wide with wonder.
She's always lived in a modern, sleek city, but now, surrounded by history and beauty, she feels like she's stepped into a historical fiction movie. The charm of the city is overwhelming, and she can't help but smile at the thought.
The cab driver glances at her from the rearview mirror. "First time in Mellany?"
Grace nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, it's my first time."
The cab driver smiles warmly. "What brought you here?"
Wow, he speaks really good English, Grace thinks. "I'm here for my friend's wedding."
"Friend's wedding? Wow! That's great. Does your friend live here?"
"Yes, she does," Grace replies. "She always talks about how Mellany is full of love, such a nice place to live."
The driver nods enthusiastically, flashing a huge grin. He gives her a thumbs-up, and then there's a comfortable silence as they continue their drive.
Grace looks out the window again, soaking in the scenery. She feels a sense of calm wash over her, a rare moment of peace. It's been a while since she's had time to relax. Between her family's devastating financial situation—caught up in a fraud scheme, their money and wages stolen—and the pressure of dealing with endless legal battles, her life has been anything but calm.
But here, now, it feels like a brief reprieve. Like God is giving her a little bit of rest, and she's soaking it all in.
The scenery gradually shifts, the streets becoming quieter, less crowded. She smiles softly to herself. Wow, I didn't know the route to the hotel would be so dynamic, she thinks. Even though the worries are still there, gnawing at the back of her mind, she decides to put them aside, if only for a moment, and enjoy the beauty around her.
Then, without warning, the cab jerks to an abrupt stop. Grace nearly bangs her head on the seat in front of her but manages to catch herself just in time.
"Ummm…?" She looks at the driver, confused.
"Get yourself out of here!!!" the cab driver suddenly shouts.
"Excuse me?" Grace blinks in shock, not sure if she's hearing things.
Before she can react, the back doors fly open, and two men appear, pulling her out of the cab.
"What?!! Hey!!!" Grace protests, completely bewildered.
In a flash, the two men climb into the cab, the doors slam shut, and the taxi pulls away with a screech of tires.
"Wait... what?!!! Stop! Come back!!!" Grace shouts, her heart pounding.
She runs after the car, but it's no use. The cab is already speeding down the street, disappearing around the corner. Breathless, Grace stops, her chest heaving.
"Oh, my… my wallet… my bag, my suitcase… my phone…" Her mind races as she realizes everything she had is now gone—taken by the two men in the blink of an eye.
She looks around frantically, but the street is empty. The buildings are old, run-down, and look like they're about to crumble. The area feels eerily deserted, and the sense of danger is overwhelming.
Oh no, where am I? Grace thinks, panic starting to rise in her chest.
That's when she notices a man stumbling toward her, a drunken grin on his face, an alcohol glass sloshing in his hand.
Fear grips Grace immediately. Act cool, act like you're not scared. Just walk past him, she tells herself, trying to steady her breath as she moves to sidestep him.
But as she passes, the man suddenly grabs her wrist.
"Hey, girl!" His voice is slurred, his grip tightening around her.
Grace's eyes widen in shock. "What are you doing?" she demands, trying to pull away.
He holds onto her even tighter.
"Let go of me," she says, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay composed. The last thing she wants is to look scared, but she knows she can't afford to upset him. He might do anything.
"Let's go have some fun," the man says with an evil, grating laugh.
"Let go…" Grace pleads, tugging harder to free herself.
I should have learned that karate lesson from my second elder brother, she thinks in desperation.
The man refuses to let go. He reaches for her again, trying to pull her close.
"Stop!!!" Grace shouts, her voice sharp and panicked.
And just as his hands close in around her waist, a loud thud echoes in the street.
The man crumples to the ground, collapsing in a heap.
Grace's heart races as she looks up, her breath caught in her throat.
Standing behind the fallen man is a figure—a man in a leather jacket and blue denim jeans. His eyes gleam with an intensity that sends a shiver down her spine. His sharp nose, symmetrical thin lips, and chiseled jawline make him appear almost too perfect to be real. With his tall frame, broad shoulders, and fit build, he looks like someone who's just stepped out of a movie.
Her breath catches in her throat.
It's him. The same man from my dream.
Her heart pounds in her chest as she stares at him, unable to look away.