Epilogue

The soft morning light shone onto the closed eyelids. The method of awakening seemed to be effective, as the thick eyelashes started moving after three years of stillness.

The room, decorated in white, was full of a ‘clean’ smell that made her grimace even before she could open her eyes to observe her surroundings. Her eyelashes moved rapidly as she blinked to adjust her vision. Fortunately, the ray of light was partially blocked by the person who had pulled the curtain and allowed sunlight to wake her up in the first place.

“Excuse me.”

Dark eyes that had finally adjusted to the light turned to the source of a woman’s voice. In front of her was not the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes. It was not bright red blood pouring from her cold body. Not the picture of the man whom she wanted to see before her breath stopped.