Better Luck in Next Life

Chapter 44. Luke

For the first time, I hesitated to leap into the abyss of impending death, solely because of the hand clasped tightly in mine. My hands trembled as the car bore down on us, the imminent threat sending shivers down my veins. Despite my best efforts to hold on, my grip faltered as the vehicle drew closer, mere inches away.

In the split second before impact, I was forcefully shoved against the wall. As I staggered back, I realized I had definitely let go of her hand. With a sharp jolt of pain, I felt her hand now pressed against my head, evidence of our separation.

Her eyes met mine, etched with agony. She rested her head against my chest briefly, seeking solace in the chaos. But as the harsh reality sunk in, she retreated, taking a few steps back.

Because of her hand, my head was spared, but her hand bore the brunt of the collision, now bleeding from the impact.

I pulled her aside and hurriedly entered her house, situated upstairs from the convenience store, a sense of déjà vu washed over me. Each step I took felt strangely familiar, yet I couldn't place why. As I stepped inside, the feeling intensified, as if I had walked these halls before, but the memories remained elusive.

Taking in the layout of the house, I noticed a small kitchen tucked away in the right corner, a bedroom directly ahead, and a cozy coffee table positioned near the balcony to my left.

She intercepted my attempt to explore further.

"I've seen a lot of houses like this," I remarked casually.

Her reaction was immediate. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with indifferent and irritated.

I paused, choosing my words carefully. "Houses as huge as a single room," I clarified. "And by the way, I understand your situation, what you're going through. It must be challenging for someone accustomed to a life of privilege to endure poverty, right?"

"I don't believe you've lost your memory just from the last six months, but your entire life," she remarked pointedly.

Caught off guard by her assertion, I took a step closer, seeking clarification. "What do you mean?" I asked.

She stood her ground, her expression resolute. "Have you ever heard my name before?" she challenged. "I doubt you knew about Peter Joe having a daughter in the hospital that day. I had nothing to do with my father. In fact, I had been living off him after college. I suppose you've only gathered minimal information about me."

"I admit it. Let's take the time to get acquainted," I proposed, settling into a chair near the balcony. "I'll have a black coffee with a hint of ginger. Not too strong."

She remained guarded, folding her arms across her chest. "I have no interest in swapping preferences," she declared firmly.

Raising an eyebrow, I added a playful tone. "Do you prefer me as the house raider or the potential buyer?"

As she disappeared into the kitchen, I took a moment to observe the surroundings. The pictures on the wall lacked human faces, but the color of the curtains caught my attention. Despite the house's simplicity and dustiness, there was a certain charm to it.

When she returned with a cup, I hesitated. It was a risk, trying something from someone I barely knew, but for the first time, I felt compelled to take that leap of faith.

I took a whiff of the coffee, intrigued by its fragrance. Looking up at her, I couldn't resist teasing, "Did you poison this?"

"It's your choice to assume that," she replied bluntly, provoking me to take a sip.

One sip led to another, and soon I found myself savoring every drop. It tasted unlike any coffee I had ever tried before—deliciously different. As the cup emptied, I found myself craving more. It was a sensation I had never experienced, a longing to have it every single morning.

"Straight to the point. Let me take a look around," I stated, rising from my seat and adjusting my suit.

She intercepted me, blocking my path. "Wait. Where do you think you're going? Aren't you planning to leave?" she questioned firmly.

A flicker of confusion crossed my face as I replied, "I don't give warnings. My presence is warning enough."

Unfazed, she countered, "I don't grant your permission."

"I don't need your permission to search your room," I asserted, attempting to bypass her.

With unwavering resolve, she held her ground, blocking my way.

"You weren't like this in the hospital," I remarked, perplexed. "Are you going to stop me? Or are you considering calling the police?"

She met my gaze evenly. "I know the police won't intervene, and I can't stop you either."

"Good girl," I quipped sarcastically.

"But this is my personal space," she pleaded. "I won't tolerate any intruders invading my privacy. Please, I urge you to leave."

Leaning in, I whispered with a hint of excitement, "What will you do to stop me? I'm curious to find out."

As I moved closer, she retreated, her heavy breaths urging me closer. There was something about her presence that compelled me to stay, to keep her within my sight. We stood inches apart, her breath brushing against my lips. A smile played on my lips as she avoided my gaze.