Through Time, For You.

Episode Four

It's a strange feeling. One minute you're mourning the loss of someone who shouldn't mean much but somehow does. And the next, he's standing in front of you – alive, breathing. You should feel relief, right? But why did I feel like I was drowning and no one could see me…

It's too bright.

My eyes flutter open and all I see is white. White ceiling, white light. My head pounds and I wince. My throat feels dry too – like I've been swallowing dust. I blink once. Then again. It's blurry at first, but shapes start to take form.

There's a face hovering above me. Pale, worried – Gina. Her eyes widen when she sees me blink,

“Oh, thank God,” she exhales, her hand flying to her chest like she's been holding her breath for a long time. “You scared the hell out of me, June.”

I try to speak, but the words don't form.

“Water, you need water,” she mumbles before reaching for something beside me. I try to sit up, but the pounding in my head only gets worse. Then another face leans into view. Blonde curls tied in a sleek ponytail. Striking blue eyes assessing me slowly. It's familiar in a different way.

Mira.

Even in my haze, I notice the tension in her jaw and in the way her arms are crossed – defensive, uncertain. Soo Mira. Even though her eyes keep scanning me like she doesn't trust what she's seeing, she's trying to seem calm. Typical, familiar even.

“Mira?” I manage

Her lips part slightly, “Hey,” her voice is soft, “you're okay.”

Did I feel okay?

I'm not sure how to respond. It felt like my brain was still trying to play catch-up.

God, what was happening?

“Where… where am I?” I croak.

“You fainted,” Gina answers, handing me a plastic cup, her voice low but quick. “In the hallway – Mr. Harrington's hallway. Now you're in his office. Do you remember?”

I freeze

Mr. Harrington.

No – I remember him. Standing. Talking. Breathing. Alive. That couldn't have been real.

As if summoned at that moment, he walks in.

“Mr. Harrington,” Gina says, standing.

Mira follows suit but slower. I turn, my hands visibly shaking. He's a few steps away from us, hands in his pocket, lips pulled thin. He tilts his head, eyes slowly assessing my features.

“You have the rest of the day off,” he says, hazel eyes pinning me to the chair. Jaw tense.

My body feels like concrete, but I don't care. I stumbled towards him, then launched forward – throwing my hands around his neck. Behind me, I hear the awkward shuffling of Gina and Mira pretending not to be there. His body stiffens for a second, not moving at all. Then – slowly, cautiously – his hands find my waist.

“You're really here,” I say softly, swallowing a sob. “I thought you were –”

I stopped myself, the words lodged in my throat. Miles clears his throat. The sound was low, almost like a warning.

“June,” his voice is quieter now, the usual edge missing. “You're clearly… not yourself.”

I pull away, cheeks heating. His hands fall to his sides and his expression turns unreadable. His eyes flickered to me once, before moving away.

“I'll have Mira escort you home,” he breaks the silence, moving towards his desk.

“Miles –”

Looking up sharply, his brows furrow. He doesn't correct me, but he doesn't respond either. It has always been Mr. Harrington. I swallow, the rest of my words dying.

“I understand,”

Mira is at my side, pulling me out of his office. We stumble into the hallway, and a few eyes turn towards us before glancing away. Mira's arm stays around me long after we step out of his office. She didn't say anything at first, but I could feel her watching me.

“You're acting weird”, Mira says as we fall into step. “What's wrong?”

The question is like a knife to my chest. Hearing her talk to me - worrying about me - was something I thought I'd never experience again.

Swallowing, I turned to her, “What is it?”

Her brows furrow.

“Why're you here? Talking to me?” My voice breaks at the last word. The dull pounding at the back of my head makes everything dizzy. Reaching for the wall, I steadied myself. But Mira notices – she always did.

“What sort of question is that?” She comes closer, worry written all over her face. “Why won't I be speaking to you?”

“You-you hate –” I stop speaking, and it's not because of the mix of confusion and worry in Mira's eyes. Neither is it because of the pounding at the back of my head that became ten times worse. No.

I've been through a lot of s**t. Ugly meetings, I've met rotten businessmen, even nasty company secrets, you name it. Thanks to Harrington group, I've seen things in the last three years of working for them. And every single time, I somehow made it through. Barely breathing? Sure, but I had made it regardless. And yet, not once had I felt like my world was slipping from beneath my feet.

But now?

Explain to me why a calendar – one stupid hallway calendar – that I had never looked at twice, could make my knees weak. Because it didn't say November 4th like it was supposed to. It didn't say last week… It said August 2nd.

Three months before, Miles Harrington died.