You Are Mine

Chapter 1

He saw himself as a boy no older than ten, his tiny hand clasped tightly in his mother's warm grasp. They were in a lush garden filled with blooming flowers—vivid reds, yellows, and whites that danced under the sunlight. The laughter of children echoed in the air, mingling with the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

And then he saw her.

She was wearing a red frock adorned with small rose patterns, spinning around in carefree delight. Her hair cascaded around her like a halo, catching the golden light of the sun. Her laughter was soft and sweet, like the chime of a bell, and it stopped him in his tracks. His heart, though young and innocent, felt an unfamiliar pull—a connection that transcended understanding.

He slipped his finger free from his mother’s grasp, oblivious to her calling his name behind him. His entire focus was on the little girl.

Step by step, he approached her, his tiny shoes crunching against the gravel path. She noticed him, pausing mid-spin, and turned toward him with wide, curious eyes. They sparkled like the sky on a clear summer day, full of light and wonder. A bright smile spread across her face, making his chest swell with a feeling he couldn’t name but instinctively knew was special.

Without a word, he raised his small finger and pointed at her. His voice, soft yet confident, broke through the moment.

“I want her, Mom.”

The memory shattered, and his eyes flew open. His chest rose and fell as if he had been running. The ceiling of his office loomed above him, and the soft hum of the air conditioner brought him back to reality.

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his tie slightly loosened from hours of work. Reclining in his leather office chair, he stared blankly at the ceiling.

"You came into my dream again," he murmured, his voice filled with longing. "But where are you in reality?"

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the desk lamp and the faint illumination of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Papers were scattered across his desk, abandoned in favor of his wandering thoughts.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and buried his face in his hands. A soft chuckle escaped him, tinged with bitterness.

"You must be more than twenty years old by now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The perfect age for us to get married, isn't it?"

He leaned back again, his fingers drumming against the armrest as his thoughts spiraled. The desperation in his voice grew as he spoke to the phantom of his dreams.

"Just tell me, girl. Where are you?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the depth of his frustration. "Just tell me."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to push the emotions away. But the dream lingered, refusing to fade. The memory of her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes had sparkled—it was all too vivid, too real.

His hand reached for a glass of water on the desk, but his grip faltered, and the glass slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor. The sound jolted him out of his thoughts, and he cursed under his breath, crouching down to pick up the shards. His reflection stared back at him from the fragments, distorted and fragmented like his emotions.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself. "Chasing after a dream, a memory from decades ago."

But no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, he couldn’t deny the truth. The girl in the red frock wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. She was real. She had to be.

He stood up, brushing off his hands, and walked toward the window. The city lights stretched out before him, a sprawling sea of twinkling stars. Somewhere out there, she existed. Somewhere, she was living her life, completely unaware of the hold she had on him.

The thought made his chest tighten.

"Where are you?" he whispered again, his breath fogging up the glass. His fingers traced patterns on the cool surface, an unconscious attempt to soothe the ache in his heart. "I need to find you."