Sen’s footsteps echoed through the hallway of the sleek high-rise, the polished floor reflecting the stark white light above. His thoughts were heavy with confusion, wrapped around the name Cordelia Grey—the name that shouldn't have meant anything, but somehow carried the weight of a past he couldn’t bury.

As he turned the corner, a faint sound drifted through the hallway—soft, melodic, and hauntingly familiar.

He stopped.

There it was again—a voice, rich and warm, followed by the subtle rhythm of dance shoes gliding across wood. His feet moved on instinct, guiding him toward the source. He stopped in front of a practice room and peered through the tall glass window.

And time stood still.

Inside, Cordelia Grey spun with practiced grace, her body flowing seamlessly to the music. Her hair moved with her, light catching on every strand, and her eyes—focused, determined, alive—were mirrors of the past.

Sen's breath hitched. April.

A familiar ache twisted in his chest, one that had never fully disappeared. And before he could stop himself, he was drowning in memory.

Flashback

The school gym echoed with laughter and chatter as the boys sat sprawled on benches, half-watching the girls practice their dance routine. A younger Sen sat apart from the others, his chin resting in his palm as his gaze followed one girl in particular.

April.

She was twirling, her ponytail bouncing, her small feet light against the gym floor. Then—slip! Her shoe caught a baton ribbon, and she crashed to the ground.

"April!" the teacher rushed over, concern etched across her face. The room stilled.

“I won’t be able to dance now,” April said, voice small and eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Sen sat outside the nurse’s office, waiting, his little fingers gripping the straps of his backpack. When she returned limping, he noticed how she tried not to cry, how she still smiled at the worried glances from classmates. Even hurt, she joined rehearsals two days before the show. She danced through the pain, determined not to let anyone down.

And when she took her place at center stage—her ankle still weak, her eyes glowing—Sen couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Present Day

Sen blinked the memory away and found himself still at the window, watching someone who looked like the ghost of the girl he once knew. Cordelia’s figure moved with the same grace, the same fire. Even the way she furrowed her brow in focus—it was her. It had to be her.

He clenched his jaw and turned on his heel, quickly walking away from the room. His heart thundered in his chest, his pulse too loud in his ears.

Cordelia smirked from inside the room. She had seen him—his stunned expression, the way he lingered—and she knew exactly what kind of chaos her presence was stirring.

Let it haunt you, Sen, she thought. Let it eat away at you like it did to me for years.

Sen, unaware of the smirk behind the glass, pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Find out everything about a woman named Cordelia Grey,” he ordered. “I want her full background, where she came from, who she’s connected to—everything.”

His voice was firm, but his heart trembled.

Because in his gut… he already knew.

He was staring into the past.
And it was staring right back.