As my head clears from the last remnants of clouded thoughts about Joseph after I leave his car, but the lingering anxiety still gnaws at me. I sit on a bench, hoping that a few deep breaths of fresh air might help.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  "Isn't working. I'm still anxious." That’s quick. Too quick.

  Maybe a walk will help, so I decide to stroll around the park. The air, cool against my face, starts to work its magic. The anxiety fades, but not completely. Ugh, maybe I’ll just go home and sleep this off.

  Just as I’m about to leave, I notice a familiar figure sitting under a tree—Azazel. But something is off. He’s wearing a mask and glasses this time, covering most of his face. What’s he hiding?

  My anxiety, already bubbling beneath the surface, surges. He seems so suspicious, and my brain immediately jumps to conclusions. His gaze locks onto something. Following his line of sight, I spot a girl standing nearby. A girl in a school uniform, with short hair glowing in the sunlight, a delicate frame, and an almost ethereal presence. She looks like she belongs in a fairytale, completely unaware of anything around her.

  Wait... Is he in love? Could it be? No, obviously, that’s not an act of someone in love.

  Then it hits me like a truck—he must be a stalker! My blood boils at the thought. Without thinking, I storm over to him.

  “You’re such a creep,” I blurt, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Spying on a girl? I thought maybe I was wrong about you before, but now you just look weird, act weird, and apparently, you stalk people too!”

  Azazel slowly lowers his glasses, and for a second, I freeze. His eyes—sharp, unsettling, as if he can see through me—lock onto mine. A shiver runs down my spine. There’s something dark in them that I can’t quite place, something that makes my skin crawl.

  Still, I force myself to stand my ground. No way am I letting this creep intimidate me. I square my shoulders, holding my chin high.

  “I don’t know why you’re mad,” he says, his voice calm, “but don’t let the weight of your anger fall on me.”

  That calm, dismissive tone only fuels my frustration. “It’s none of your business,” I snap, crossing my arms. “You’re the one creeping around, stalking high school girls!” My voice rises, echoing through the park. “You’re a total cree—”

  Before I can finish, his hand shoots out, clamping over my mouth. My eyes widen in shock.

  “Do not,” he warns, his voice low and controlled.

  I swat his hand away, glaring. “Do not what? Call you out for being a creep?”

  He tries to cover my mouth again, but this time, I’m ready. “Stop that!” I growl, smacking his hand away harder.

  Azazel sighs like I’m an inconvenience. “I’m not spying. I was looking for the perfect spot to confess my feelings. I am also a student from her class.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious? “You’re not even wearing a uniform! You’re a terrible liar,” I say, folding my arms across my chest, refusing to buy into his excuse.

  His expression falters, clearly not expecting me to challenge him.

  Raising an eyebrow, I say, “What kind of confession involves stalking a girl in a park while wearing a mask? She’d reject you the moment she sees you lurking around like this.”

  Azazel blinks, clearly thrown off by my bluntness.

  I say, feeling a smug grin form on my lips, “You’ve got a lot of work to do before any girl will fall for that. But that is not the point now, stalker.”

  Azazel rubs his chin, looking almost thoughtful, like my words have sparked some deep contemplation. “You are smart,” he admits.

  “Yeah, it’s called common sense,” I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

  Then I hear him mutter something, barely catching it. “I guess entering this avatar affected my intelligence...”

  I blink. “Avatar? What are you talking about?”

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  His eyes flick to mine for just a second before he quickly brushes it off. “No, nothing.”

  But a chill runs down my spine. Avatar? What does that even mean? Is there something more to him than I thought? The anger I felt moments ago shifts into confusion—and maybe a little bit of fear.

  “I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “But be honest.”

  He hesitates for a moment, like he’s weighing his options. Then, with a resigned sigh, he says, “I was stalking her.”

  My heart skips a beat. What?

  “But not for the wrong reasons,” he adds quickly, holding up a hand. “It’s for... research.”

  “Research?” I repeat, incredulous. “You just admitted to doing something bad!” My voice shoots up an octave, and without thinking, I grab his arm, determined to drag him over to the girl. “She needs to know!”

  Azazel doesn’t resist. In fact, he sighs again, like a man resigned to his fate, being led to the gallows. “You’re right. I shouldn’t spy on her. But I found her attractive and... I’m not good at socializing.”

  I stop and stare at him, raising an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe you’re shy? With that stone-cold face and creepy stare?”

  He meets my gaze, and suddenly, everything around me starts to blur. My head feels light, my eyelids impossibly heavy. My thoughts—once sharp and buzzing with anger—become slow and foggy, like I’m drifting away from myself.

  “What the—” I try to speak, but my body sways. The ground feels like it’s slipping out from under me, and the last thing I hear is a dull thud as my head hits the ground.

  When I wake up, the world feels off-kilter. There’s a voice calling my name—familiar yet distant. As the haze lifts, I spot a figure stepping out of the shadows. It’s Joseph.

  “I can see you’re alright, my honeybee,” he says, his voice as smooth as ever. Honeybee? Seriously?

  Wait. Joseph? What’s going on?

  He extends his hand toward me, a charming smile on his face. “Concede me this dance,” he requests, his tone laced with charm.

  “What dance?” I mutter, completely confused. But before I can grasp what’s happening, the world around us shifts. Suddenly, we’re in an extravagant ballroom, the walls adorned with gold and chandeliers sparkling overhead. My dress transforms into a shimmering gown, and Joseph, now dressed in a sharp suit, pulls me into a graceful spin.

  “Not just a party, my sweet pie,” he whispers, holding me close.

  “What’s with the nicknames?” I ask, half-dazed, still trying to make sense of this surreal situation.

  “Isn’t it normal for couples to use nicknames?” he replies smoothly, twirling me around effortlessly.

  Couple? I look around, my head spinning from both the dance and the confusion. On the wall hangs a portrait of us together, rings on our fingers. What? Is this real?

  Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice—Maria’s, calling out to me. “You two make a cute couple!” She waves from across the room, looking stunning in a blue dress.

  "Maria!” I shout, rushing to hug her.

  “Ely!” she beams, hugging me tightly.

  “I’m glad you choose Joseph as your new husband. Just think of all the double dates we can have!” Maria teases, her voice light and playful, but my heart races with uncertainty.

  “Don’t be so hasty, Maria. I—I…” Joseph is undeniably handsome. His charm intrigues me, even if his quirks sometimes leave me bewildered. It’s fun to be around him, but the idea of being a couple—especially a married couple—feels daunting.

  “Why not? Ely, you’ve always yearned for that special man to melt your frozen heart, and here he is! He may not be as handsome as my Julian,” she nudges me playfully with her elbow, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Just then, a figure appears next to Maria. “Ely, this is Julian!”

  “Nice to meet—” my voice trails off, and my heart drops.

  His face... it’s blank, featureless. Panic surges through me.

  “What’s wrong, Ely? Why do you look like you saw a ghost?” Maria’s words snap me back to reality.

  “Why does he not have a face?” I stammer, bewildered by this surreal situation.

  “Ely, I get it. Julian is breathtaking; it’s normal for people to feel like that the first time they meet him, but try not to talk like that in front of your husband,” she says, as if my question is irrelevant.

  “Husband,” I murmur, something stirring within me. Those words resonate deeply, but I can’t grasp why. I can see Joseph and Maria, but Julian remains an enigma.

  “This isn’t real,” I whisper to myself, feeling disbelief wash over me.

  “My piece of cake with strawberry, this is real,” Joseph chimes in, confidence lacing his voice. “This is your dream and your reality, where your happiness never ends.”

  But I can’t shake the feeling of uncertainty. “I can’t imagine Julian since I’ve never met him before. That’s right, I’m dreaming.” Instinctively, I start walking toward the window, drawn by an urge I can’t explain.

  “Ely, what are you doing? Stop!” Maria’s voice is frantic, but my heart races with resolve.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, but it feels right!” Before I can second-guess myself, I lunge toward the window, and in an instant, I’m falling.

  “AHHHHH!” My eyes fly open, but the sensation of fear grips me. I want to cry, to scream, but the rush of wind drowns out my panic. “I need to come back!” I shout, but my voice is swallowed by the chaos around me.

  I squeeze my eyes shut against the strong wind, waiting for the moment of truth.

  “Come back! I have to come back!”

  “I must come back!” My words echo, muffled but gaining clarity with each repetition.

  “I will be back!”

  “I’m back!” I exclaim, feeling weightless. I decide to open my eyes.

  “HUH? A parachute?” Out of nowhere, I have a parachute—yes, this is definitely a dream.

  I float down to the ground gently, my landing calm and surreal. “How can I wake up?” If a parachute appears out of nowhere to stop my fall, then there is definitely something off with my brain.

  “Ouch, too much thinking!”

  To distract myself, I imagine a toy brick and plant it firmly on the floor. I slip off my diamond slippers, letting them rest beside me.

  “Are you sure you want to leave this place, Elysia?” Joseph appears, holding a bunch of roses, his expression a mix of concern and charm.

  “No more anxiety, no more anger, no more bad jobs, no more!” Joseph declares.

  “I don’t know much about the real Joseph, I admit,” I continue, narrowing my eyes at him, “but if I have to bet, the real Joseph wouldn’t say something like that.”

  With a swift kick, I aim for the toy brick on the floor. The moment my pinky toe makes contact, a sharp pain shoots through my foot. I yelp, the sudden jolt pulling me back to reality in the hospital room.