Chapter 6: Fractures in Different Worlds
818 Words
Jack woke with a sharp breath.
Not because of sleep.
Because of something that refused to stay buried.
For a few seconds, he didn’t move.
His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, but his mind wasn’t in the room.
It was somewhere else.
A place he couldn’t fully see.
A wedding hall.
White flowers.
Too much silence.
Mia standing beside him.
Not smiling properly.
Not fully present.
Then—
A shift.
Raised voices.
Vase breaking.
A sound he couldn’t place, but his body reacted to anyway.
Blood.
Not everywhere.
But enough.
Enough to make his chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t explain.
Jack’s fingers curled slightly into the bedsheet.
“What is that…” he muttered under his breath.
The images didn’t stay.
They never stayed long enough to become clear.
Just fragments.
Just pressure.
Then—
Mia’s face again.
Not the version from yesterday.
Something older in her expression.
Something tired.
Something broken.
A knock hit his door sharply.
“Sir, your father is waiting.”
Reality snapped back instantly.
Jack sat up.
The fragments disappeared like they had never been there.
He blinked once.
Then again.
“…Coming,” he said flatly.
He stood.
And left the room without looking back.
Downstairs, the house was already awake in a different way.
Not warm.
Not peaceful.
Structured.
Controlled.
A world built on expectations instead of comfort.
His father sat at the head of the table.
Mr. Fredrik.
Cold posture. Sharp gaze. A man who measured value in results, not presence.
Jack entered the room.
He didn’t sit immediately.
That alone already annoyed the silence.
Mr Fredrik looked up slowly.
“You’re late.”
Jack didn’t respond.
Mr Fredrik pushed a file forward.
“Your performance in the last quarter is disappointing. Again.”
Still no response.
That silence was familiar—but never safe.
Mr Fredrik’s tone sharpened.
“You are becoming a failure, Jack.”
That word landed heavier than the rest.
Jack’s jaw tightened slightly.
Mr Fredrik leaned back slightly, eyes cold.
“Do you know what my rival’s son is doing right now?”
Jack’s eyes flickered.
He already knew who he meant.
Mr Morgan’s son.
Edel.
Mr Fredrik continued without waiting.
“Edel is closing international contracts. Expanding influence. Building something that actually lasts.”
A pause.
Then colder:
“And you?”
Jack’s fingers tightened slightly under the table.
“You are still chasing distractions.”
The word “distractions” hit differently than it should have.
Because something uninvited flickered in Jack’s mind again—
A girl.
Mia.
And the way she didn’t look at him yesterday.
Mr Fredrik’s voice cut through again.
“If you continue like this, you will always remain behind him.”
Jack’s expression didn’t change outwardly.
But something inside him shifted.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Comparison.
A quiet, sharp pressure he didn’t acknowledge.
Across the city, another world moved differently.
Edel stood in a glass-walled office high above the city.
Phones rang.
People spoke.
Decisions were made around him without needing emotional involvement.
He listened without interruption.
Reviewed documents without reaction.
Signed papers with calm precision.
To others, it looked like control.
To him, it felt like distance.
One of his assistants hesitated before speaking.
“The partnership proposal from the Lee group is waiting for your confirmation.”
Edel didn’t look up immediately.
Then, quietly, “Delay it.”
The assistant blinked. “Sir?”
“I said delay it.”
No explanation followed.
And none was needed.
Later, when the room was empty, Edel stood by the glass.
The city below moved like it had no awareness of the weight above it.
His reflection stared back at him.
Unmoved.
Unchanged.
But his thoughts weren’t entirely still.
A girl’s face from last night surfaced briefly.
Mia.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… present.
Observing.
Like she had been looking at something behind him instead of him.
Edel exhaled slowly.
“…Interesting,” he murmured.
Then turned away.
Mia didn’t know any of this was happening.
She was sitting at a desk near a quiet corner of campus.
Books open.
Notes spread carefully in front of her.
Law.
Words she had once written with hope.
Now written with intent.
Not emotion.
Direction.
Her fingers moved steadily across the page.
Focused.
Controlled.
If she stayed here—
If she built something real—
Maybe she wouldn’t lose herself again.
Maybe she could exist outside of memory.
A vibration interrupted her thoughts.
She paused.
Looked at her phone.
No name.
Just a notification.
She didn’t open it immediately.
Her eyes stayed on the screen for a moment longer than necessary.
Then slowly—
She locked it again.
And returned to her notes.
But her grip on the pen had changed slightly.
Tighter.
More aware.
Like something far away had just reminded her:
She was not the only one moving forward in this timeline.
And not everyone was moving gently.
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