The Tale Of Unbounded Love

Chapter 4

Just as Chris was starting to compose himself, he heard a knock on the door. He stood still, listening intently. Another knock followed, and this time, a soft, melodious voice spoke out. "I know you can hear me," she said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I bought you some clothes."

Chris let out a sigh of relief, feeling a sense of gratitude towards the mysterious lady. He slowly opened the door, and she stood before him, a gentle smile on her face. She held out a bag, and Chris took it, murmuring a thank you before closing the door again.

As he quickly changed into the fresh clothes, Chris couldn't help but wonder about the lady's identity and her motives. But his curiosity would have to wait, as his stomach growled with hunger. When he emerged from the bathroom, he was greeted by the sight of the lady sitting at a table, a spread of food before her. She smiled warmly at him, her eyes sparkling with kindness.

"You should come and eat; you need the energy," she said, her voice gentle but persuasive.

As Chris emerged from the bathroom, he was greeted by the sight of the lady sitting at a table, a spread of food before her. She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "You should come and eat; you need the energy," she said, her voice gentle but persuasive.

Chris stood there for a moment, his mind racing with questions. He had no recollection of ever meeting this lady before, and yet, here he was, in a room with her, with no memory of how he got there. The accident he had been in was still a blur, but he remembered the feeling of weightlessness, the sound of crunching metal, and the sensation of his world spinning out of control.

As he approached the table, Chris's eyes locked onto the lady's, searching for answers. "Do you know me?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

The lady's expression was enigmatic, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Do I have to, too?" she asked, her tone playful.

Chris's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with possibilities. He sat down opposite her, his eyes never leaving hers. The lady pushed a takeaway plate with food towards him, and Chris's stomach growled in response.

As they ate, Chris couldn't help but steal glances at the lady. She seemed to know him, but he had no recollection of her. The accident had left him with a blank slate, and he was desperate to fill in the gaps.

"I was in an accident, right?" Chris asked, his voice low and even. The lady's eyes flickered, and she stopped eating, her fork hovering in mid-air.

"I mean, I remember being in an accident, but I don't remember what happened afterward," Chris continued, his eyes locked onto hers. "Did you perhaps save me?"

The lady's expression was guarded, her eyes giving nothing away. "My name is Philda," she said, her voice firm but polite. "And yours?" The implication was clear: she wasn't going to discuss the accident further.

Chris sensed her reluctance and didn't push the matter. "Chris," he replied, taking another bite of his food.

The silence between them was comfortable, but Chris's mind was still racing with questions. Who was Philda, and how did she know him? And what had really happened after the accident?

After they finished eating, Philda efficiently cleared the table, disposing of the takeaway containers in the bin. She then turned her attention to Chris, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pondered his earlier comment. While they ate, she had been mulling over his admission that he couldn't remember anything after the accident. Did this mean he had no recollection of how she had saved him, of how she had revived him? Philda's thoughts were a jumble of emotions - part of her was relieved that her secret might remain safe, but another part was concerned that Chris's amnesia might hinder his ability to recall his true identity as Michael.

As she observed Chris, Philda's mind wandered back to her own experiences. This was her sixth life, and she had given one of those lives to Chris. Yet, she still retained memories of her five past lives. Why couldn't Chris remember? She voiced her question aloud, "You said you don't remember anything?" Chris looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers, and nodded. "I don't remember what happened after the accident," he said, his tone honest and matter-of-fact.

Philda nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed in concentration. "So, you remember everything about yourself except the accident?" Chris stood up from his chair, his movements fluid, and walked over to the window. As he gazed out, his expression turned puzzled, and Philda realized that the view was stirring something in his memory.

Philda broke the silence, her voice measured. "Okay, I'll say one thing - you're lucky to have survived." But Chris reacted swiftly, spinning around to face her. "Where are we?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. Philda's expression turned quizzical, unsure why Chris was so agitated. "We're at a motel; it's not far from the accident site," she explained.

As soon as Chris heard the words, his eyes widened, and he turned on his heel, striding rapidly out of the room. Philda watched him go, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on her face. What had triggered this sudden reaction? And what did Chris remember that she didn't?

Philda's eyes widened in surprise as Chris abruptly walked out of the room, as if a sudden memory had struck him. She quickly followed him, curiosity getting the better of her. When she emerged from the room, she saw Chris standing two doors away, knocking on a door. The door swung open, and a lady stumbled out, tears streaming down her face. She flung her arms around Chris, holding him tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Philda watched the emotional reunion, unsure of the relationship between Chris and the lady. But as she observed their tender exchange, it became clear that the lady had been deeply worried about Chris, and his disappearance had left her frantic with fear.

The lady's words tumbled out in a torrent of emotion, "How could you not contact me? Do you know how worried I was about you?"

Chris gently wiped away her tears, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry. I lost my phone, got into an accident, and when I woke up, I was... I am really sorry, Queen?"

Philda wondered if "Queen" was the lady's name or a term of endearment.

Queen's sobs gradually subsided as she pulled back from Chris, her eyes red-rimmed but grateful. "I know you were in an accident, but you disappeared. I thought I had lost you," she whispered, her voice trembling. Chris wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close.

"Don't worry, I won't die. Not now, at least not when you are this young," he murmured, his words meant to reassure.

Philda felt a pang of guilt as she listened to Chris's words. If he knew he had actually died, she wondered if he would have spoken so cavalierly about his mortality. Queen, however, seemed oblivious to the deeper implications of Chris's statement. Instead, she pulled back from him, her eyes scanning his face and body.

"Brother, how is it that you are safe? You don't look injured at all?" she asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

Chris released Queen from his embrace and turned to face Philda, his eyes locking onto hers. "The lady over there saved me," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Queen's gaze followed Chris's, and for the first time, she really looked at Philda. Her tear-stained eyes softened, and she whispered, "Thank you."

Philda smiled warmly and walked towards them, her hands extended in a gesture of kindness. "Don't worry, it was my pleasure," she said.

Queen's eyes welled up with tears again as she looked at Chris, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you again." She turned to Chris, her expression worried.

"The car is ruined. How are we going to Dar?"

The next morning, Philda offered Chris and Queen a ride, as she was also heading in the same direction. As they drove down the highway, the rhythmic hum of the engine and the warmth of the sun streaming through the windows soon lulled both Chris and Queen into a peaceful slumber. Philda took advantage of the quiet moment to steal glances at Chris, her eyes drawn to the familiar contours of his face. As his eyes shut, the resemblance to Michael grew stronger, and Philda's curiosity deepened.

She couldn't help but wonder if Chris was indeed the reincarnation of Michael from her past life. The concept of reincarnation still felt surreal to her, despite the evidence sitting beside her. She had always believed in the idea of seven lives, but the possibility of meeting someone from a past life was unprecedented. Philda's mind whirled with questions. Could Chris be the real deal, or was he simply a doppelganger? How could she uncover the truth?

As she pondered these questions, Chris jerked awake, his body tensing momentarily before relaxing back into the seat. Philda's eyes snapped towards him, concern etched on her face.

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asked softly. Chris glanced at her, his eyes still clouded with sleep, and nodded.

"It's okay, I'm sure it will be all right," he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

Philda's gaze lingered on Chris for a moment before she turned her attention back to the road. "You should have thanked me earlier," she teased, a playful smirk dancing on her lips

. "I'm sorry for delaying," Chris apologized, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

"You still haven't thanked me," Philda muttered, her eyes glinting with amusement. Chris stared at her, baffled, before chuckling.

"Right, thank you so much... for bringing me back to my sister."

Philda's smile softened as she glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Queen sleeping soundly. "I'm glad I could help," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.