The Tale Of Unbounded Love

Chapter 5

As Chris entered his apartment, he held the door open for Queen, who walked in and collapsed onto the couch, looking exhausted.

"You really should have asked for her number," Queen said urgently, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She's an amazing woman."

Chris set down the bags and raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who are you talking about?" he asked, his tone playful.

Queen sprang to her feet, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Who else?" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm talking about Philda, of course! You should have asked for her number, taken her out on a date, started a relationship, and eventually gotten married and had a family."

Chris chuckled, holding up his hands in mock defense. "Now that's too much to handle," he exclaimed, laughing.

Queen's grin faltered, and she sighed, her expression turning serious. "It would be a good idea if you said you wanted to take her out as a gesture of gratitude. She saved your life, after all," she pointed out, her voice laced with reason.

Chris nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. "I am grateful for that, but now I don't think we'll meet again." He paused, considering his next words carefully.

"If we do meet again, I'll ask her out. But in the meantime, I need to focus on getting your life back on track."

Queen rolled her eyes, dramatic flair evident in her movements. "Boring," she declared, strolling past Chris towards the doors at the far end of the room.

"Where's my room?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. Chris followed her, opening the door on his left with a flourish.

"This one," he said, smiling.

As Queen disappeared into her room, Chris shrugged off her matchmaking attempts, focusing on unpacking instead. Though he felt a twinge of guilt for not asking Philda out, he believed it was for the best. After all, he had promised himself that if their paths crossed again, he would ask Philda out to dinner, and he intended to keep that promise.

*

*

As Philda trudged into her home that afternoon, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She couldn't wait to collapse onto her bed and surrender to sleep. And that's exactly what she did, sinking into the softness of her mattress and letting out a deep sigh.

Minutes later, the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. An old woman, laden with bags of groceries, entered the house. Her eyes scanned the room, and a warm smile spread across her face as she spotted the new pair of shoes on the shoeshelf. "Philda! Are you back?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement.

The old woman, Mary, made her way to the kitchen, placing the bags on the counter. She then headed towards Philda's room, her footsteps light and energetic, despite her advanced age. "I was beginning to worry where you were and what took you so long to come back home?" she said, pausing outside Philda's door.

When there was no response, Mary opened the door and entered Philda's room. She found Philda fast asleep, a peaceful expression on her face. Mary rolled her eyes good-naturedly and walked over to the bed. "Wake up, sleepyhead! You never change when it comes to sleep," she said, patting Philda gently on the back.

Philda groggily turned onto her side, murmuring incoherently. Mary chuckled and sat down beside her. "You still haven't changed, even after sixty years have passed," she teased, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Philda slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. Mary's gaze lingered on her face, and she noticed the subtle changes in Philda's expression.

"Uhgg..." Philda muttered, sighing tiredly. Mary's eyes narrowed, concern etched on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

Philda hesitated, unsure of where to begin. But Mary's encouraging gaze prompted her to start. "I met someone yesterday, someone I wasn't supposed to see in this life," Philda said, her eyes locking onto Mary's.

Mary's expression remained neutral, but Philda sensed a flicker of interest. "Don't beat around the bush with me, tell me exactly what's wrong with you. And who is this person you met yesterday?" Mary asked, her voice firm but gentle.

Philda took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Do you remember when we used to hang out with Glory at the Golden Gem restaurant? There was a time you met me with a guy... actually, no. Do you remember Michael?" Philda asked, her eyes searching Mary's face for a reaction.

Mary's expression changed, a faraway look in her eyes. "Michael... oh God, Philda?" she exclaimed, her voice barely above a whisper. Philda nodded, a mix of emotions swirling inside her.

"I saw him yesterday. I met him in a critical condition," she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Mary's eyes snapped back into focus, concern etched on her face. "What critical condition are you talking about, Philda?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent.

Philda's eyes welled up with tears as she struggled to find the words. "I gave him my life," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mary's eyes widened in shock as she stared at Philda, her mind reeling with the implications of what she had just heard. She knew Philda's story, the secret of her seven lives, and it was both unbelievable and fascinating. Her little sister, who had been gone for so long, was back in her old age, looking the same and possessing memories of their past lives. Mary had never heard Philda share stories of her past lives, let alone reveal that she had given up one of her lives for someone.

Mary's gaze remained fixed on Philda, her expression a mask of shock and confusion. "You gave him one of your lives?" she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.

"In what critical condition was he in that made you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching Philda's face for answers.

Philda's defenses rose, her voice taking on a slightly defensive tone. "He was dying when I found him, I couldn't watch him die again," she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "He was the only person I ever loved in my entire life," she added, her voice cracking with emotion.

Mary's expression turned frustrated, her voice rising in pitch. "In your seven lives, which is now six lives, good. I understand how stupid it was for you to do that," she said, getting off the bed and pacing around the room.

But Philda felt like Mary wasn't understanding her situation, that she was judging her without truly grasping the depth of her emotions.

Philda's voice took on a slightly accusatory tone. "It's easy for you to say that, it's because you never actually loved anyone that deeply," she said, her eyes locked onto Mary's. Mary stopped pacing and turned to face Philda, a hint of sadness in her eyes.

Mary spoke softly, her voice tinged with regret. "Maybe you are right. And it's easy for you since you have many lives to spare." She paused, her gaze piercing. "Philda, do you realize what you have done?" Philda stared at Mary, feeling a sense of unease wash over her.

As Mary walked out of the room, Philda heard her voice calling out from the hallway. "You can go back to sleep, I will cook something for you to eat." The door closed behind Mary, leaving Philda to her thoughts, her mind reeling with the weight of her decision.

Philda lay back in bed, her mind racing with thoughts of Chris and their past life together. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Mary didn't understand her situation, that she was judging her without truly grasping the depth of her emotions.

As she drifted off to sleep, Philda's thoughts were filled with memories of Michael and their time together. She remembered the way he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the way his touch made her feel alive.

Hours later, Philda woke up to the sound of Mary calling out to her. "Philda, wake up! I've made lunch for you." Philda stretched and got out of bed, making her way to the kitchen.