Rose screamed as she yanked Isabel's hair so violently that Isabel nearly lost her footing.
Tears streamed down Isabel's face as she struggled to pry Rose's hand away, but Rose only pulled harder, her face twisted with fury.
"She's a witch!" Rose shrieked. "She's a witch!"
The commotion spread like wildfire.
Zach rushed out of the house at once, and within moments, villagers began gathering in front of the yard, drawn by the noise and the accusation hanging in the air like poison.
He pushed through the crowd and forcefully tore Rose's hand away from his wife.
"What did my wife do to you, Rose?" he demanded, his voice hard.
"Yes! What did she do now?" one of the village women asked, stepping closer.
"I heard she had a hand in Bubu's death," someone from the back called out.
The crowd stirred.
"Yes," another voice added quickly. "His body was found in the forest this morning. It looked like his life had been drained from him."
"He was just a child!" a woman cried. "What could he possibly have done to deserve that?"
"She must be evil."
"She's cursed."
"She's a demon in human skin."
"I didn't kill anyone," Isabel said.
Her voice was calm.
The kind of calm that made the villagers even more uneasy.
"She doesn't even look remorseful," a woman muttered. "Look at her standing there as if nothing happened."
"You've heard it, Zach," Rose snapped, pointing at Isabel with trembling fingers. "Your wife is a witch. Why do you keep protecting her? She's dragging you into the abyss with her!"
Her voice rose higher.
"You know nothing about her! No past, no family, no history—nothing! And everyone here remembers what happened yesterday. That boy only poured water on her by mistake…"
Rose's eyes gleamed with accusation.
"And now he's dead."
A chilling silence followed.
Then—
"Crucify her!"
The shout came from somewhere in the crowd.
Another voice joined in.
"Crucify her!"
Then another.
"Crucify her!"
Soon the chant spread like a curse, louder and louder, until it seemed to shake the very air.
"Crucify her!"
"Crucify her!"
"Crucify her!"
Zach's stomach twisted.
His grip on Isabel's arm tightened unconsciously.
Was his wife truly a witch?
The thought disgusted him.
Yet somehow…
It had still crossed his mind.
Slowly, he turned to look at her.
"Did you kill the boy?"
For the first time, something flickered in Isabel's eyes.
Pain.
Not fear.
Not guilt.
Pain.
"No," she said quietly. "I didn't kill anyone."
Zach held her gaze for a long moment.
Then he gave a short nod, stepped forward, and faced the crowd.
"You all heard her," he said firmly. "My wife didn't kill anyone."
His voice cut through the chanting like steel.
"No one has the right to accuse her without proof. If you truly believe she is a witch, then bring evidence."
His eyes swept across the villagers one by one.
"Otherwise, I will drag every single one of you to court for defamation."
The crowd fell into uneasy murmurs.
Some exchanged uncertain glances.
Others shifted uncomfortably.
No one stepped forward.
No one had proof.
"Don't regret this, Zach," Rose warned coldly.
He didn't answer.
One by one, the villagers began to leave.
But their stares lingered.
Suspicious.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
And even after they were gone, the air still felt tainted.
As if the accusation had left a stain no one could wash away.
*****
I stood in front of the mirror after taking my bath, trying to tame my messy hair.
I'd never really cared much about my appearance, but today…
I wanted to look decent.
The last thing I wanted was scaring Dave away with my looks.
I was halfway through wrestling with my hair when I suddenly froze.
My eyes.
They weren't crimson.
They were purple.
Deep.
Bright.
My breath caught.
I blinked—
And just like that, they were normal again.
I stared at my reflection, unmoving.
Nothing strange.
Nothing unusual.
Just me.
A nervous laugh slipped out.
"I'm hallucinating now," I muttered under my breath.
First, the weird dreams.
Then the strange feeling that someone was always watching me.
And now this?
Purple eyes?
I let out a breath and gripped the edge of the dresser.
Maybe I was just tired.
Maybe my brain was finally giving up on me.
I shook my head and forced myself to move.
After knocking, I entered my parents' room and asked my mom to help with my hair. She smiled and agreed immediately, completely unaware of the storm quietly brewing inside me.
After breakfast, I headed to school.
But the uneasiness followed me the entire way.
I was supposed to go to class.
That had been the plan.
Yet somehow…
I found myself standing near the pool instead.
I didn't even remember making the decision to come here.
It was as if my feet had carried me there on their own.
Weird.
I sat down slowly, my thoughts drifting.
"Skipping class?"
The voice was smooth.
Low.
Annoyingly attractive.
I turned—
And my breath caught in my throat.
He was beautiful.
No.
Beautiful wasn't even the right word.
He looked unreal.
Like he had no business existing in the same world as normal people.
If Dave was the kind of beauty that made girls stare in school hallways, then the man sitting beside me was something far more dangerous.
The kind that looked like trouble wrapped in perfect skin.
There was also something strangely familiar about him.
Something I couldn't explain.
His hair was damp and slightly messy, like he had just stepped out of the shower. He wore black shorts low on his waist, his bare chest on full display, every hard line of muscle looking unfairly perfect under the light.
And for some embarrassing reason…
I couldn't stop staring.
"Hi…" I heard myself say before I even realized I had spoken.
He smiled.
Just slightly.
And somehow that made him worse.
"Have we met before?" I asked carefully.
"Yes," he replied.
Then, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he added, "At the walkway earlier. You didn't even notice me."
I blinked.
"Notice you?"
He leaned back lazily, a smug look dancing on his lips.
"Wow. I can't believe my handsome face could actually go unnoticed."
I stared at him.
Did he just compliment himself?
Out loud?
I scoffed.
"You aren't that good-looking," I said flatly.
A slow smile spread across his lips.
Confident.
Dangerous.
The kind of smile that looked like it had ruined lives before.
And annoyingly enough…
My heart did something very stupid inside my chest.
"I'm Dylan," he said, stretching out his hand for a handshake. "And you are?"
Instead of taking it, I stood up so quickly the bench creaked.
"Don't get full of yourself just because you think you have a pretty face," I shot back. "You're not that handsome."
Then I turned sharply and walked away.
Behind me, I could practically feel his confusion.
Good.
But just as I took my second step—
My foot slipped.
Everything happened too fast.
One second I was walking.
The next—
Cold water swallowed me whole.
I plunged into the pool with a violent splash.
The shock alone nearly stopped my heart.
I couldn't swim.
Panic exploded inside me instantly.
Water rushed into my nose, my mouth, my throat. My arms flailed wildly as I struggled to stay afloat, but my body only sank deeper.
"Help!" I choked, gasping desperately.
Through my blurred vision, I saw him.
Standing there.
Watching.
Just watching me drown.
And the worst part?
He looked entertained.
I couldn't believe it.
He hadn't even tried to catch me when I slipped.
No.
He had literally moved aside and let me fall.
"Save me!" I begged, coughing as water rushed into my mouth.
"I only save pretty ladies," he said lazily.
Two guys standing at the far end of the pool burst into laughter.
My eyes widened.
Was he actually insane?!
My chest burned.
My limbs were growing weak.
Oh God.
I was seriously going to die.
In a swimming pool.
Just as darkness began to blur the edges of my vision—
I heard a splash.
Strong arms wrapped around me from behind.
He pulled me up effortlessly, dragging me against his chest.
When I finally managed to lift my head, he was staring down at my terrified face.
With amusement.
Pure amusement.
I glared at him.
"If you keep looking at me like that," he murmured with a smirk, "you'll be spending the night inside this pool."
I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing myself not to scream from sheer rage.
He only smiled wider.
A moment later, he carried me to the edge and pulled us both out.
Air.
Sweet, burning, precious air.
I coughed violently, dragging in one breath after another as water dripped from my hair and clothes.
When my vision cleared, I glared up at the person holding me.
"Don't look at me like that," Dylan said lazily. "I wasn't the one who pushed you into the pool."
Then he smirked.
"You should be grateful. Not only am I handsome… I'm merciful."
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unbelievable.
Before I could think twice, I shoved him with all the strength I had left.
His eyes widened.
Then—
Splash.
He fell straight back into the pool.
This time, I smiled.
Slowly.
Devilishly.
"Mercy," I muttered.
And then I ran.
Behind me, I could practically feel his stunned stare burning into my back.
Good.
Served him right.
By the time I reached the pavilion, my clothes were still dripping and my hair clung to my face.
I sat down heavily, wrapping my arms around myself.
Embarrassment clung to me worse than the water.
"Hey."
I looked up.
Dave stood there, holding a bag, concern written all over his face.
He walked over without hesitation and gently draped a jacket around my shoulders.
The warmth made something in my chest soften.
"How did you get wet?" he asked softly.
"I slipped into the pool," I muttered. "It's nothing serious."
His expression tightened.
"You should be more careful."
I nodded.
Silence settled between us.
Comfortable.
Awkward.
Both at once.
Then he cleared his throat.
"Are you free this weekend?"
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"We could hang out."
I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes slightly.
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
The moment the words left my mouth, heat rushed to my cheeks.
Why was I like this?
Dave chuckled softly.
"You're very direct, you know."
"You didn't answer my question."
His smile deepened.
"You asked me out for lunch. I thought I did treat you this weekend if you are free."
Oh.
Oh no.
I had completely forgotten about that.
Embarrassment hit me like a truck.
"Right," I said quietly, trying not to die inside. "Yeah… we should hang out."
His smile softened.
"Then it's a date."
My heart skipped.
And unfortunately…
I didn't know whether that was because of Dave—
Or because somewhere in the back of my mind, all I could still see was a smug, infuriating face and a pair of impossible eyes.
The weekend came faster than I expected.
Way too fast.
I woke up earlier than usual and immediately started trying on outfits.
"Nope."
I tossed one on the bed.
"No."
Another joined it.
"Absolutely not."
By the time I was done, clothes were everywhere.
My room looked like a battlefield.
I stood in the middle of the chaos, breathing hard like I had just survived war.
How was getting dressed this stressful?
After what felt like trying on my entire wardrobe, I collapsed onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.
This was ridiculous.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," I called tiredly.
Helen stepped inside—
Then immediately froze.
Her eyes slowly moved from the pile of clothes on the floor to the dresses hanging off the chair, then to me sprawled dramatically on the bed.
"Are you preparing for a date?" she asked, one brow lifting.
"And how is that your business?" I snapped before I could stop myself.
The moment the words left my mouth, regret followed.
Helen's expression softened instantly.
"I just wanted to know if you needed help."
Guilt stabbed me hard.
I looked away.
"I don't," I muttered.
She nodded quietly and left the room.
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
I stared at the door for a long moment.
Damn.
I shouldn't have spoken to her like that.
After a long internal battle with my pride, I dragged myself off the bed and walked to Helen's room.
I knocked softly.
For a second, I almost turned around and ran back to my room.
But then the door opened.
"Eh… um…" I scratched the back of my head, suddenly forgetting every single word I had prepared.
Helen only smiled gently, like she already understood.
"Come in."