Before she forgot

Episode Two

Emilia felt her breath hitch.

The man was tall, towering above her with a posture so straight and confident it seemed the walls themselves bent to his authority. His suit was flawlessly tailored, hugging his broad shoulders and lean frame in a way that spoke of wealth and power.

Dark hair, slightly tousled, framed a face that looked as though it had been sculpted with precision. His jawline was sharp, his lips firm, and his eyes — icy and unyielding — glittered under the elevator's restored light. They were the kind of eyes that made people lower their gaze, yet Emilia couldn't tear hers away.

He didn't smile. He didn't frown. His expression was unreadable, cold, as though emotions were something beneath him.

Emilia clutched the file she was holding tighter, her palms damp. She had never seen a man so devastatingly handsome yet so intimidating at the same time. He exuded the aura of someone untouchable — someone who belonged to a world far higher than hers.

She was still lost in her thoughts when the elevator doors slid open.

"Are you leaving?" came a cold voice from beside her. He didn't look at her.

Emilia blinked. "Huh? Yes — sorry." She stepped out quickly, heat rising to her cheeks.

As she walked down the hall, she couldn't help but glance back once more. For just a second, she caught his eyes as the elevator doors closed between them.

He should be a model, she thought to herself, shaking her head as she continued walking. He'd make far more with that face. She had no idea she had just crossed paths with anyone other than a very handsome coworker.

In his office, Johnson sat behind his desk, still.

He replayed what had happened in the elevator — the lights going out, the darkness swallowing him whole, the way his composure had shattered without warning. His workers had never seen him like that. His first instinct was sharp and familiar: she should be fired.

But then the memory of her hand on his back surfaced — steady, unhurried, asking nothing. It's okay. You're safe. The words had been simple, almost childlike in their sincerity, yet something about them had cut through the panic in a way nothing else usually did. It felt strangely familiar, though he couldn't place why.

He was used to women staring at him. It happened everywhere he went, and he found it tiresome without exception. But her expression after he stood — that wide-eyed, stunned look — had been different. Less calculated. Almost... amusing.

Without realizing it, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

The door opened. His assistant stepped in, a neat stack of files in hand.

"Sir, here are the documents you requested," he said, placing them carefully on the desk. He hesitated before adding, "Also, your father called earlier. He wanted to—"

"Enough," Johnson cut him off, eyes still fixed on the papers. "I already know."

"Understood, sir." The assistant bowed his head and quietly exited, leaving Johnson alone with his thoughts.

He already knew what awaited him at home that evening.

Later That Evening — Williams Mansion

"No, Dad. I will not — and I will never — marry her."

Johnson's voice was firm, his jaw tight. Across from him, his father's expression darkened.

"Then who will you marry?" Mr. Williams snapped. "You're not getting any younger. Look at your brother — he already has a fiancée." He gestured sharply, as though the point were obvious.

The room carried the weight of old money. Tall shelves of leather-bound books lined the walls, and the faint scent of polished wood hung in the air. Heavy curtains dimmed the evening light, casting a golden glow over the large oak desk at the center. A grandfather clock ticked steadily in the corner, its rhythm indifferent to the tension filling the room.

"Hmm. A fiancée," Johnson said, the word carrying a faint smirk.

"When I was your age, I already had your brother," his father continued, voice rising. "What is wrong with you? I'm not getting any younger. Is it too much to ask to see my grandchildren before I leave this world?"

Johnson's fist clenched at his side. Without a word, he turned and walked out.

He nearly collided with Anaya in the hallway. His younger sister grabbed his arm with both hands, her eyes wide with exasperation.

"Big brother, take me to your house. I'm going to live with you — I can't bear it anymore," she said, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "You wouldn't believe where I just came from. None of these men are decent, and I am sick of blind dates."

Johnson looked at her. Eighteen years old and already caught in Dad's marriage obsession, he thought.

The door swung open and Liam stepped in, glancing between the two of them with the easy grin of someone who already knew the answer.

"Let me guess," he said, rocking on his heels. "Another blind date that didn't work out?"

Anaya crossed her arms. "As always."

"Well, I have good news." Liam held up his hand, a ring catching the light. "I'm engaged."

Anaya's eyes flicked to the ring, then back to her brother. "I'm sure every girl in the industry has that same ring."

Liam's grin dropped. "What did you just say?" He took a step toward her.

Anaya darted behind Johnson instantly. Liam looked at Johnson's face — the expression there was quiet and final. He stopped.

"Fine," Liam muttered. "I'll get you another day."

That Evening — Emilia's Apartment

Emilia dropped her bag the moment she walked through the door and collapsed face-first onto the bed.

Ahhh.

She lay there for a moment, letting the day settle over her. It had been good, all things considered. Stressful, yes — but good. Her co-workers seemed kind. She could work with that.

Eventually she dragged herself up, showered, and came out feeling lighter. She made spaghetti with tomato sauce for dinner, scrolled through her phone for a while, and then reached for her headache medicine.

The drawer was empty.

She stared at it for a moment. Then, reluctantly, she put on her helmet, rolled her scooter out, and headed down the street to the pharmacy.

The night was quiet, the cool air brushing against her skin as she rode slowly down the dimly lit road. Crickets hummed somewhere in the dark. Streetlamps cast faint pools of yellow light on the tarmac.

She told herself the unease growing in her chest was nothing. It's just a short ride.

Then she saw it.

Up ahead, a vehicle sat motionless in the middle of the road, its headlamps blazing into the night. Emilia slowed, squinting. The stillness of it was wrong — too complete, too silent.

She drew closer.

The bonnet was badly crushed. The windscreen had shattered into a web of broken glass. Her grip tightened on the handlebars as the full picture came into focus.

A figure was slumped forward in the driver's seat.

"Oh no..." she breathed.