Nick couldn't stop looking at her.
Sara.
She was right there. Standing before him, beautiful and ethereal, like an apparition drawn from his most sacred memories… but completely hollow inside.
He had imagined her countless times over the years—laughing in the school hallway, raising an eyebrow in confusion during class, walking away with confident steps while he trailed behind, never brave enough to tell her how much he liked her. She had been the quiet guardian of his heart.
And now she was here. But she wasn't the same.
Something in her was broken. Not just in her dark, endless eyes, but in her stillness, the way she breathed, even how she lowered her gaze as if she didn't deserve to look at the world directly.
"Quiet, obedient, loyal..."
Was that what they had done to her?
Nick felt a sharp ache in his chest, as if something had pierced straight through him. He clenched his fists in silence while his father signed the final papers. He wanted to scream. To undo everything. To rewind time.
But he couldn't.
When his father left and they were alone, emotions bubbled inside him, barely contained. He walked toward her slowly, with the kind of caution one uses when approaching a flower about to wither at the slightest touch.
He gently embraced her, hoping she would respond.
But she didn't.
Only the coldness of her body met his arms.
"Are you cold?" he asked, barely a whisper.
"Yes," she answered flatly, her tone devoid of feeling.
"You should've said something."
"No."
"...No?"
She lowered her head, as if she had spoken a forbidden word.
"A perfect girl never… never says anything, right?"
Nick stepped back. Inside, he stumbled. Rage, helplessness, and a sorrow too vast for words surged within him.
"No," he said firmly, though his voice trembled. "That's not true. My God, Sara… what did they do to you?"
But she didn't answer.
And that hurt more than anything.
---
At the store, he picked out dresses, shoes, accessories. She expressed no opinion, no preference. She tried on whatever he handed her, wore what he chose, without a word beyond what was absolutely necessary.
At the café, Nick talked. He laughed nervously. Told stories from school days. Tried to make her smile, to see even a flicker of emotion. But she only spoke when addressed directly.
He watched her with quiet sorrow, trying not to appear too obvious. Sometimes, he looked at her like one might look at a jewel that had fallen into the mud—precious, damaged, dimmed. At times, it felt like sitting next to a ghost.
And yet… she was Sara. His Sara. The one who had lived in his thoughts even when she wasn't supposed to. The one who had marked his adolescence. The only girl he had ever truly wanted.
"I swear I'll help you," he told her at the end of the afternoon, gently holding her hands. "The last thing I want… is for them to have won. Please, trust me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
She looked at him. Without emotion. Without hope. Without light.
And with a voice that sounded like the echo of someone who no longer lived, she answered:
"Yes, my lord."
Nick felt something break inside him. He didn't know if it was his heart, his faith… or the memory of the girl who once made him believe in something.
But he knew one thing for certain:
He wouldn't let her stay that way.
He wouldn't let Sara be lost forever.