Panic surges through me like wildfire. I cannot help but try to steal a glance in the direction of the voice, and my worst fears are confirmed the moment I meet the concerned gaze of his all-too-familiar face.
Casimir, still unaware of Chad's identity, looks at him with a guarded expression.
Chad's hands are resting heavily against his knees and he is bent over, trying to catch his breath.
He probably ran as fast as he could to get here.
"She'll be alright," Casimir responds cautiously.
Despite Casimir's answer, a shadow of uncertainty lingers in Chad's eyes, casting a subtle veil of doubt over his stare.
"How is she even here?" Chad questions under his breath, his tone laced with disbelief.
"What do you mean? Who even are you and how do you know her?" Casimir demands, his patience thinning as he struggles to understand how Chad could possibly know me.
Chad recovers from his stance and looks at Casimir with a blank expression as if grappling with the sheer absurdity of the question he has just been asked.
Neglecting to answer Casimir's questions, Chad proceeds to ask, his voice filled with incredulity. "You have to be Larissa, right? It has to be you, I've never gotten it wrong."
Before Casimir gets the opportunity to interrupt, I push my back off the mattress and the medics temporarily hold their actions.
"You've got it wrong." I retort, struggling to restrain the bitterness underscoring every word I utter.
Chad's eyes widen immediately, and he begins to shake his head slowly as if he is unwilling to accept the notion that I am not Larissa.
Though, I am not surprised that he is able to recognise me.
After all, he always could.
He has always been one of the few who could actually differentiate me and her.
In my peripheral vision, I also manage to catch sight of Casimir, who had his brows knitted together in a blend of suspicion and perplexity.
"Y-You're lying to me," Chad stammers as he makes his way towards me hesitantly, his voice catching on the tears that threaten to overflow.
Noticing Chad's rapid emotional unravelling, Casimir's demeanour shifts instantaneously. The sudden unpredictability stemming from Chad's emotional instability has put him on high alert.
In a matter of moments, Chad squats before me, closing the distance between us until there are mere inches separating us. His gaze fixates intensely on my features. A fleeting softness graces his eyes, an echo of familiarity he finds in my visage. Yet, a profound sadness shadows his expression, as though he is torn between his yearning for my admission and the growing realisation that what stands before him might not truly be 'Larissa'. His searching eyes hold a mixture of hope and doubt, battling against the truth he is unwilling to embrace.
However, he can never know that he is right.
I am Larissa Fable.
And he can never know the truth.
I never died in that fire.
I was never in that fire.
It wasn't me in that fire.
A sudden warmth envelopes my cheeks, pulling me from my reverie. Chad's hand rests gently against my skin, a jolt that brings me back to the present moment.
"You are her," Chad's words escape in a hushed whisper, his utterance holding both the conviction of recognition and the ache of a heart grappling with a truth it's reluctant to confront.
"She's gone," I utter, my words heavy with both sadness and a lingering resentment.
Chad's features contort, a whirlwind of disbelief and shock sweeping across his face. His eyes now waver with uncertainty as they bore into mine. It is as if he is clinging to a desperate hope that my words are a mere fabrication and is unwilling to confront the grim reality of my 'death'.
"It's my damn fault... I... I should've just let it go when she asked me to. It's all my fault!" Chad's voice starts as a barely audible mumble, his self-blame echoing in the air like a haunting refrain. Yet, as the weight of his realisation takes hold, his grip on my face loosens, his fingers sliding away as his words gather force. Each syllable grows louder until they cascade like a crescendo of remorse.
Chad's sudden raise in voice startles me, causing me to involuntarily tense up, my composure momentarily shattered by the unexpected surge of intensity.
Having witnessed Chad's emotional turmoil unfold and noticing the flicker of fear in my eyes, Casimir's worry heightens. He positions himself before me, resembling a barrier forged to safeguard against the unpredictability of Chad's emotional turbulence.
"Cut it out, you're scaring her," Casimir warns, his voice carrying a stern edge.
Chad's focus pivots from his emotional outpour to fixate on me. His gaze meets mine, and a gradual shift in his expression reveals guilt. The hard edges of his features ebb away, now replaced by etching lines of regret. It's as if a heavy realisation has dawned on him, acknowledging that I am not Larissa.
"I-I'm so sorry, Leala," Chad's voice quavers, the weight of his assumed guilt bearing down on him. Emotion overtakes him, and he succumbs to a torrent of remorseful breakdown, his words laced with profound sorrow that he believes is directed at Leala.
As Chad's apology washes over me, a surge of anger rises within me, fuelled by the resentment I have harboured for so long. It isn't me he should be apologising to; it's her, Leala. Sure he thinks I am Leala, but the reality is that I am not. Years of pain and confusion, the guilt from feeling responsible for it all, all of it simmers beneath my skin, stoking the fires of bitterness. Yet, as much as I want to unleash that anger, I find myself momentarily paralysed, grappling with the overwhelming mix of emotions that threaten to consume me.
His greed tainted her.
My carelessness ruined her.
Worst of all, our 'love' destroyed her.
"If only you had just listened," the words slip from my lips, a quiet utterance of my thoughts, charged with the weight of blame.
It isn't fair.
What gives him the audacity to crumble and plead for forgiveness, when I have spent the past two, nearly three years, ensnared in a tormenting cycle of self-condemnation?
In fact, our breakup marked the last time tears escaped my eyes.
"W-What?" Chad's voice trembles with confusion, seeking clarity amidst the tangled emotions and unspoken accusations that hang heavy in the air.
A tempest of emotions churns within me, and my restraint wavers. In a moment of unbridled frustration, I find myself unable to hold back the torrent any longer. My voice cracks as I lash out, the pent-up anger and bitterness finally breaking through the surface.
"You should've listened when you could! She was waiting for you." My voice trembles, each word a fragile thread threatening to unravel my composure.
I was waiting for you.
"And now, because you didn't, my family was taken away from me."
Despite how I was outrightly blaming him, deep down, I knew I wasn't being honest.
Truth is, I can only blame myself.
My aspirations set the 'bounty' on us. Then, my stubbornness stripped us of having a father. Finally, my immature love robbed her of her life.
As the hut hangs heavy with unspoken tension, I feel a pang of apprehension crawling beneath my skin. The air seems to crackle with an uneasy anticipation as Chad shifts, his expression a mix of guilt and regret.
"I-" Chad's voice breaks the silence, but he gets cut off immediately.
"Just go." Casimir's voice slices through the air.
Chad's head snaps up, shock flashing across his features. The weight of Casimir's dismissal was palpable, each word like a door slamming shut on any chance of reconciliation.
Chad's hesitation is evident as if he is trying to grasp onto any remaining strand of opportunity to speak. But Casimir's patience, or whatever remained of it, seems to be wearing thin.
"Chad," Casimir's voice lowers, an edge of warning creeping in, "I'm not asking."
An awkward pause follows, during which Chad's inner turmoil is visible on his face. The silence seems to stretch on, a fine thread of uncertainty connecting Chad and Casimir in the hut.
Finally, with a heavy sigh that carries the weight of surrender, Chad takes a step back. He stares at Casimir for a moment longer, as if conveying everything he could not put into words. And then, he turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him.
The hut quickly descends into a tense quiet, the weight of the recent exchange lingering in the air like a storm that had passed but left its traces. Casimir's posture remains rigid, his eyes fixed on the space Chad had just occupied. I find myself holding my breath, suspended between the remnants of the encounter and the unspoken questions that now fill the room.
Soon after, Casimir's eyes shift towards me, his expression a mixture of puzzlement and something else, something unspoken. He finally breaks the silence that had settled like a shroud over the room.
"What was that about?"