That night, Miguel sat alone in the dim apartment, reflecting on the past.
Back in university, when he was first assigned a dorm room, one of the other students had blurted out, “Ugh, I don’t want to room with a gay guy!” The words echoed down the hallway. Whispers followed. Miguel froze where he stood, wanting to disappear—to become invisible under the weight of so many eyes.
Then a voice cut through the silence like a blade.
“I’ll take your place. I’m straight, so I think I’ll survive his charm.”
A hand extended toward Miguel. It was Alex—someone he had never met before.
The hallway went quiet. The guy who had complained muttered, “Phew, lucky me,” and wandered off.
Alex turned to Miguel as they walked side by side. “I’m Alex. Sorry if that was awkward. I just didn’t want you feeling unwelcome,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to speak for you.”
Miguel blinked in disbelief. “Not at all. You saved me. Thanks. But… are you really okay rooming with me?”
Alex grinned. “Well, you’ll have to let me know how charming I am.”
Later, Miguel would realize what that meant: Alex was a disaster. The room was always messy, and he’d stumble in after parties, face swollen from brawls. Miguel would grumble while holding an ice pack to his cheek. “Seriously, Alex…”
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That same night, Alex stood under the hot stream of the shower, water rolling down his back. His thoughts drifted.
There were two people he had truly loved.
One was a woman from his dreams—ethereal, perhaps not real. The other—tangible and vivid—was Naosa.
He remembered the queen from his dreams: Please be reborn and find me.
And the words he heard again and again: Thank you for finding me.
Had that voice belonged to Séraphine?
When had he started believing that Naosa might be her? Somewhere along the way, the line between dream and reality had begun to blur.
It had started, he realized, after the day of the workshop presentation. That’s when the dreams began.
Had she forgotten me?
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Elsewhere, Naosa lay in bed, the sheets tangled around her. Her mind kept returning to the moment Alex called her name.
Not “Nao.” Not even “Naosa.”
Séraphine.
No one—not even her father or Kazu—called her that. Only her French relatives had.
Maybe he’d seen her full name on a document. But why say it then? At that exact moment?
He said he loved me.
And then… he kissed me.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, the memory still burning.
It couldn’t have been real. Maybe he just felt sympathy for her after she opened up. Maybe it was pity, not love.
She remembered his warm hands. His patience with Kazu. The gentle way he tucked her hair behind her ear. The quiet strength in his voice when he said, “Good job.”
Then another memory flashed—Dr. Merrick’s hand on her body—and she gasped, sitting up in bed.
But Alex’s kindness returned like a balm, washing the darkness away. Her thoughts turned inward.
I hurt him… what have I done? I hope I can see him tomorrow.
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The next day, Alex returned to the lab.
His face was pale, but his eyes were clear. He offered a quiet greeting to everyone.
“Feeling better?” Jill and Sally asked, their voices tinged with concern.
“Just a hangover. Nothing serious,” Alex said with a sheepish grin.
Naosa greeted him calmly. “Good morning. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you. The soup was amazing,” he replied.
They both pretended nothing had happened. But Alex could feel the distance between them. Her smile was still warm—but laced with something unspoken, something that ached. Every time their eyes met, it burned—part longing, part regret.
He knew now: even if she never returned his feelings, he would never forget her.
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A few days later, the team gathered in the cafeteria for lunch. Trays clattered; voices filled the space.
Naosa, cheerful as ever, offered food to the others, keeping conversation light and flowing. Alex joined in, but his gaze lingered on her more than it should.
From across the room, Amanda stood and walked toward their table, her steps deliberate. She stopped directly behind Naosa.
Alex noticed her first. He straightened, every muscle on edge.
Amanda leaned in, her perfume overpowering. “Hey, Alex. You don’t have to force yourself, you know.” Her voice was smooth and venomous. “Did you know this girl used to intern at Wexley Biomedical? Do you know why she left?”
“Hey—” Alex started, voice low and warning.
Amanda didn’t stop. “She seduced her boss to get ahead. Got caught. Couldn’t stay. That’s why she’s here now.”
The cafeteria went silent.
Naosa stood slowly. Her chair scraped against the floor. She turned to Amanda, voice calm but resolute.
“I don’t know you. And you don’t know anything about me. So why say something so cruel?”
Alex noticed her hands trembling at her sides.
He stood. “Don’t say things you can’t prove—”
Naosa looked directly into Amanda’s eyes, her voice steady despite her trembling hands. “I have done nothing wrong.”
“Amanda, enough,” Alex said firmly.
Something snapped in Amanda’s eyes. After everything—after watching Alex drink himself into tears over this woman, after seeing him broken and rejected—he was still defending her. Still choosing the woman who had hurt him over someone who truly cared. The injustice of it all sent rage coursing through her veins.
“Don’t you get it?” Amanda’s voice rose, sharp and venomous. “You’re nothing but a fraud! Everyone here deserves to know what kind of person you really are!”
The words echoed through the silent cafeteria. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them.
Naosa’s face went pale. She took a deep breath, pressing her trembling hands together to steady them.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible but dignified. She walked away with measured steps, her back straight beneath the weight of every stare that followed her.
The silence held.
Alex watched her disappear, his fists clenched at his sides.
And as the whispers began to rise around them, his voice echoed silently in his chest:
I should have protected her.
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