EPISODE 3

H...He... still... is... actually…

Ugh—what's happening to me? Why am I even thinking like this? I’ve seriously lost it now, haven’t I?

Just when I thought I was pulling myself back together, I felt it—a light, feathery touch on my head. I froze. My hand slowly rose to brush it away, and then—

It began.

A gentle rain of flowers.

Not just a few petals… but hundreds, maybe thousands. The sky above me seemed to burst open with color. Flowers cascaded down in waves—soft, delicate, and surreal. The garden around me transformed into something out of a dream. I spun slowly, my arms half-raised as blossoms kissed my skin.

An ocean of petals surrounded me.

And I loved it.

I closed my eyes, smiling involuntarily, inhaling the sweet, overwhelming scent. But then—

That smell.

Familiar.

Nostalgic.

Orange Blossom.

My heart stopped.

The scent wasn’t just perfume in the air. It was a memory. A memory more vivid than anything I had felt in years. My chest tightened as my eyes fluttered open. The flowers around me, white with hints of gold, danced in the wind.

No… No, it couldn’t be.

“Jesus Christ, no…” I whispered.

Tears welled up.

Not him. Please, not him.

My breath hitched as panic rose in my throat.

“I... I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him in my life again. He’ll ruin everything. He’ll destroy the peace I’ve been desperately trying to rebuild.”

But my voice faltered.

He was in prison... right?

“No. No... It’s Matías. It has to be him. Only Matías would do something this dramatic for me.”

I was trying to calm myself, to make sense of the chaos spinning in my chest—when a new sound sliced through the air.

A deep, thundering whoosh from above.

I looked up.

A helicopter.

It moved directly toward me. Sleek. Black. Flashy.

A banner fluttered beneath it, shimmering in the morning sun:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE

No.

No no no no no.

My knees nearly gave out.

It’s him.

I don’t want this. I don’t want him. I hate him. I hate everything he did to me. The way he took over my life, my thoughts, my freedom…

The helicopter began to land.

People gathered around in awe, murmuring, gasping, filming.

Then the door opened.

And there he was.

Nicolàs Fredrick.

The man who broke me.

He stepped down slowly, his polished shoes hitting the ground with purpose. Every movement was calculated, powerful. He was dressed in a jet-black suit, tailored to perfection, with a crisp white shirt and no tie—just enough rebellion to remind me of who he truly was.

He looked… ethereal.

More dangerous than ever.

His ebony-black hair was styled into a classic pompadour, smooth and gleaming. His brows, dark and sharp, curved like crescent moons. Those mariner-blue eyes locked onto mine immediately. They were orbs of fire and ice—burning with passion, freezing with calculation.

His angular cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the faintest smirk curling his lips…

He moved like a predator.

And I was his prey.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.

The rich scent of his cologne—earthy, sensual, intoxicating—wrapped around me like a ghost. I hated how much I still remembered it.

But I was furious. So furious I could hardly breathe.

He came closer. The crowd made way for him instinctively. His energy was overwhelming, like the air around him bent to his will.

And then he spoke.

His voice—deep, husky, the kind of sound that could melt steel.

Nicolàs Fredrick: “Surprise, love... I’m sure this is the best surprise of your life. Missed me, right, señorita?”

A devilish smirk tugged at his lips.

The world around me went quiet. All I could hear was my pulse roaring in my ears.