But his voice betrayed him.
It was shaking.
The girl finally looked at him.
And smiled.
Not kindly.
“You told him I was dead,” she said.
The crowd stirred, whispers rising.
The boy’s eyes flicked between them, panic growing.
“What… is she talking about?” he whispered.
The man crouched beside him quickly.
“Listen to me. She’s lying. You don’t know her.”
But the boy was already shaking his head.
Fragments were coming back—
A garden.
Sunlight.
Laughter.
A small hand in his.
“I remember…” the boy said weakly.
The girl stepped closer.
“They took me that night,” she said. “You tried to follow. You stood up.”
The man’s face went pale.
“That’s enough.”
But it was too late.
The boy’s hands gripped the armrests.
His body trembled.
“You told me I could never walk again,” he said, voice cracking. “After that night…”
The girl’s eyes burned.
“Because he needed you to forget.”
The crowd erupted.
“What does she mean?”
“Who is she?”
“Call security!”
The man grabbed the wheelchair.
“We’re leaving.”
But the boy pushed his hands down—
And stood.
Barely.
Shaking.
Unsteady.
But standing.
The entire street went silent.
The man froze in horror.
The girl stepped closer, tears in her eyes now.
“They didn’t just take me,” she said softly. “They made sure you never followed again.”
The boy looked at the man.
Not with confusion anymore.
With betrayal.
“…What did you do to me?” he asked.
The man said nothing.
Because the truth was already visible—
In his fear.
In the boy standing.
In the girl who was never supposed to come back.
