CHAPTER 36 - RED THREAD OF FATE

"Just call me if you need anything. And thanks, man, I owe you one."

I could hear Eugene's voice growing louder as he made his way towards me, the sound of his animated conversation mingling with the soft buzz of conversation coming from a group of elderly ladies nearby. From my spot on the bench, I couldn't help but watch them, imagining the juicy gossip they must be sharing about their wrinkled old men. While one might assume that these ladies, with their silver hair and weathered skin, would be discussing the usual mundane topics of old age, grandchildren, or deteriorating health, I knew better. They had enough reminders from their families and outsiders about the realities of life. No, their laughter and the telltale blush on a single woman's cheeks betrayed their true intentions. They were undoubtedly indulging in the delight of sharing something naughty, something titillating that kept them feeling young at heart.

Lost in my own musings, I absentmindedly clutched an ice cream cone in my hand, its creamy goodness resisting the summer heat. Yet, it occasionally reminded me of its existence by dropping a droplet or two of its thick, delectable liquid onto my skin. I watched the droplets fall, mesmerized by how the sun's rays caught the glistening, sticky residue.

"They look adorable, don't they?"

Eugene's question caught me off guard, but as I glanced at him, the corners of my lips curled into a genuine smile. We sat side by side, simply observing the group. They were indeed adorable. It was as if they had reached a state of blissful serenity, completely unfazed by the world's chaos. But being a woman in my late twenties, I knew better than to fall for such pretenses. Life was a minefield of problems at every turn and everyone had their own issues to face, but the key to surviving it all was choosing happiness, irrespective of the circumstances.

"You didn't have to take the day off."

I said, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

"I wanted to."

He said back, putting his head over mine. It was a simple gesture, but as his irregular skull pressed against mine, the weight of his presence sent ripples of comfort surging through my throbbing skull.

The silence that followed our previous conversation had been heavy. We hadn't spoken much after I had bared my soul to him. Time had slipped away as we sat there, lost in our thoughts, until my leg grew numb from the hours spent in contemplative stillness. We packed up our belongings, and Eugene took them back to the car. But before he went, he bought me an ice cream and insisted on spending the rest of the day with me. I protested, assuring him that I was fine, but he saw through my facade, refusing to let me face the storm alone. His unwavering presence became my lifeline, and with each passing moment, I realized how grateful I was that he had chosen to stay. In his presence, I found a sense of belonging, a respite from the struggles that had plagued my weary mind.

Every time I think I have gotten over that awful day, it just hits me whenever I mention it to someone. It's like going through that day all over again, and most of the time I end up curling up in bed with my mom or April beside me. None of them ask me anything, except for my dad. He encourages me to talk to him whenever I need to, and he's always willing to listen. I haven't really talked about it to anyone else, except for my therapists, and even then, I couldn't fully express it. For the past five or six years, I haven't discussed it with anyone, and my parents assumed that I had moved on. But now that I think about it, it's not as overwhelming as before. Of course, I can still feel the panic, the pain, and all the emotions I experienced during that day in every fiber of my being. But I can bear it. I don't know if I have overcome it or if I have simply adjusted to living with the pain. The former idea makes me feel remorseful when I consider it. It feels like moving on would mean being ungrateful to her. I feel guilty.

"Are they out of jail yet?"

I shrugged, or barely tried to, as the side of my left shoulder was pressed against him and it was making movements difficult.

"I heard one of them took their own life during the trial. As for the other two, I am not sure. I visited them once as a part of my therapy session a decade ago. I remember them crying and pleading for my forgiveness. They were in a rehabilitation center back then. After that, I lost track of them completely."

I said, recollecting the memories that were deeply buried. So deep, that it was only now that I recollect such things actually happened. I am unaware if scars heal, but they definitely fade.

"Are you no longer angry with them?"

I shrugged once more, this time with a bit more ease as he lifted his head away from mine and proceeded to clean my sticky hand, which was now devoid of ice cream.

"Well, I suppose not. The anguish in their eyes was evident, and they were undoubtedly in pain. I reckon that's the harshest form of retribution. Even though our circumstances were dissimilar, we both endured a lifetime of remorse. And I understand all too well what that sensation is like."

I said as a matter of fact, expecting him to tell me that I shouldn't feel guilty. It was her decision, after all. I too was a victim without a choice and was deeply hurt. At least those were the usual stuffs people told me. Initially, I despised hearing those words, but eventually, I became indifferent. They didn't comprehend the situation; they were merely attempting to console me. And when Eugene began with 'you know...', I anticipated the usual set of phrases I had grown accustomed to. However, I was mistaken, just like I always seemed to be when it came to Eugene.

"Sometimes we repay the deceased by simply remembering them. Other times, we intentionally make ourselves miserable and harbor guilt, as if to experience their pain firsthand. It's a selfish form of justification, a way to demonstrate that we, too, are suffering as a result of their death."

A deep sigh escaped my lips, and a single tear trickled down my left cheek. Wasn't I doing just that? Paying the price for her untimely departure?

"You won't ever fully overcome it. However, with time, the pain does lessen. I hope the same can be said for your agony." He stated.

He wasn't urging me to move on. He didn't even expect me to erase the past or forget it entirely, to let the bygones be bygones. He simply wanted me to accept it and move ahead. Eugene, much like my father, was one of the few who truly understood me. It felt as though he had firsthand knowledge of the torment I had endured.

"You speak as if you've gone through it yourself."

I remarked, amazement evident in my voice. It wasn't an accusation, but rather genuine surprise at his profound comprehension. I thought such men only existed in movies and fictions written by women.

"I saw this woman leaving a director's room one night, with her clothes stained in blood. At first, I assumed it was hers, but it turned out to be the perverts who made a move on her."

My head shot up like a bolt of lightning, a surge of energy running down my spine, nearly spraining my neck. The incident from three years ago suddenly resurfaced in my thoughts. With wide eyes reflecting a blend of disbelief and curiosity, I struggled to accept the fact that he was there in that very moment. It felt as if time had folded in on itself, merging the past with the present.

"As I silently followed her, my only intentions were to ensure her safety and well-being after that shocking event and I can't say that I wasn't intrigued. Many girls would have been overwhelmed by panic or apprehension, but this girl remained composed, radiating an extraordinary sense of tranquility. I couldn't help but admire her strength and elegance as she sat on the edge of the terrace, even humming a tune. I had instant respect for her."

I rose from the bench, staring at him with utter perplexity. The woman he mentioned just now was definitely me. There was no denying it. He had been present on that very day and I never spotted him. Admittedly, the possibility of our paths crossing in the past was not nonexistent, given that we both worked in the same industry and had filmed movies in various locations around the globe. Therefore, it wasn't an impossibility for our encounters to occur. What startled me was that he caught me on that particular day. It was my very first time on a movie set and I had assumed that no one, except for the attendant, had seen me. Yet, even the servant had only got sight of me as I exited the room, not during my trip to the terrace.

"Did you actually recognize me when you saw me that day three years later?"

I asked in a high-pitched voice, my mind not able to digest it all. It dawned on me that the encounter we had with Brave wasn't our initial introduction. His carefree shrug portrayed an air of nonchalance, accompanied by a mischievous smirk that betrayed a trace of guilt. He looked so much younger than his age and I had to mentally kick myself to stop falling for him more.

"I genuinely wanted to make a positive impression on you, and introducing myself with recounting a negative pat didn't seem wise. Moreover, I was worried if you would appreciate that someone else witnessed that scene. Fear may have played a role in my hesitation?"

It was more like a question than a statement, and I nodded absentmindedly. If he had spoken of that day when we met, I might have kept my distance from him, or assumed he wanted something in return for covering it up. Our relationship would have undoubtedly changed if that had been the case. Surprisingly, the irritation I felt towards him for hiding the truth disappeared instantly. Now that I think about it, I am glad he never pointed it out until we became close and had established a level of comfort. I would even go so far as to say that we trusted each other completely, as we shared everything now.

While I settled into my seat, something felt different this time around. Instead of slouching, I consciously adjusted my posture to ensure my spine stood tall and aligned. I fixed my gaze upon him, and to my surprise, he met my intense stare with equal conviction.

"My point is, I realized back then that you were a strong person, stronger than most. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of difficult experiences you must have faced to handle that situation so effortlessly. Now that I know, I can only say that you've made tremendous progress. And you will continue to grow stronger. This time, I will be right here with you as your best friend."

My tear works began once more. He wasn't going to give them a break, was he?

Our kiss ignited a blaze of passion between us. His words, so full of raw honesty, weighed heavily upon me, with veiled meanings that left me grappling for clarity. While he promised to be my best friend, uncertainty gnawed at my heart. For how long would he be with me? And will friendship be enough for him? There will be a time when he wants to settle down and I cannot. I pushed those thoughts aside as he kissed me more deeply and turned me into a potato mush that was unable to think, not even breathe. Though one thought kept popping up. Today I was going to give him my everything.

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