Inside the Pharmacy...
Cera and Haya were busy arranging medicine bottles; the clinking of glass broke the silence, and the scent of disinfectants filled the air. Sunlight streamed through the windows, flooding the shelves with golden threads. All was quiet... until the door swung open with force. The pharmacy owner walked in—a man in his mid-fifties, broad-shouldered, stepping with a confidence that suggested he tolerated no negligence. His eyes sparked with strict surveillance, and the sound of his footsteps echoed against the walls.
He stood for a moment, scanning everyone as if sorting them out. His gaze fell on Cera, who was preoccupied with arranging cough syrup bottles and hadn't noticed his entrance.
In his raspy, sharp voice, he barked:
"You... don't you know how to say good morning?"
Cera's eyelids fluttered. She turned quickly, her eyes widening in surprise. She stumbled over her words for a second, then muttered in a low, flustered voice:
"I... I didn't notice... Good morning."
His silence was harsher than any reprimand. He didn't answer; instead, he turned toward his office, leaving a cloud of tension behind.
At that moment, Cera's eyes filled with tears... a faint mist blurred the room, but she squeezed her eyelids shut, refusing to let those tears fall—refusing to let them witness her weakness.
She whispered to herself:
"Damn it... Why am I here?! I always thought I deserved better... I always thought I was different... but now? I'm at the bottom... This isn't where I belong."
Elsewhere...
Aiden had dropped Arin off at his doorstep. Before leaving, he turned to Arin and said:
"Arin... call me anytime. I'll stop by tonight to check on you with Cera. You should meet her—she's my girlfriend."
Arin turned to him but didn't say a word... yet his gaze was long and silent, carrying things that couldn't be spoken. He smiled—a faint, hollow smile to hide a wound that hadn't yet healed.
As soon as Aiden left, Arin sat on the stairs, leaning his head against the wall, and said with a broken heart:
"My brother... you are burning my heart... How can I tell you what will shatter you? My God... what do I do?"
The Pharmacy Again...
Aiden pushed the door open, his steps confident, moving through the room like someone who knew his way by heart. He saw Cera... she smiled at him, but his eyes locked onto hers—a quick glance that revealed what she tried so hard to hide.
He saw the silent glint in her eyes, the tears that hadn't found their way out but were still there, trapped, witnessing a silent pain.
He heard a colleague whisper to her in frustration:
"This is our job... we are like slaves here. There's still so much left to do."
The moment Aiden stepped past the inner door, everyone froze. Breaths were held, and gazes followed him as he walked in with a strange authority, as if he owned the place.
"Aiden?" Cera breathed his name, her voice trembling between shock and embarrassment.
He approached her, reaching out calmly. His hand rested tenderly on her cheek—his fingers were warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the coldness of the world around her.
"I hate seeing tears in your eyes... These eyes are hope to me, so I won't allow anyone to let a single tear fall down your cheek."
He drew closer... then gave her a light kiss on her cheeks—a kiss full of reassurance, devoid of pretension. He squeezed her hand gently, then took a step back, leading her with him.
Cera, her cheeks flushing crimson, held onto his hand as if it were her only lifeline:
"Aiden... what are you going to do?"
He didn't answer. He kept walking until he reached the office door. Without knocking, he pushed it open and entered.
He sat firmly in the chair across from the pharmacy owner. The onlookers outside watched with indescribable shock.
With a calm confidence that masked a volcanic rage, Aiden said:
"There is one thing I cannot tolerate in this world... seeing her cry. Insulting her, belittling her... that is unacceptable. She is my treasure, my hope—not a toy in your hands."
The owner furrowed his brows and said sharply:
"But she works for me."
Aiden raised an eyebrow slightly, his voice more dangerous than the man expected:
"Works for you? True. But there are limits, even for 'authorities.' This time it passes... but next time, I will hold you legally accountable. And I will not be merciful."
The room went still; the air felt heavy, like a suspended moment in time. Everyone was stunned, while Cera looked at Aiden, her heart melting between gratitude and awe.
Then he smiled, but his smile wasn't warm—it was cold as a knife's edge, carrying a veiled threat behind his mask of calm. He leaned forward slightly, and in a low voice like a demon's sigh, he said:
"Consider this talk a mere... introductory meeting. Cera is a trust in your hands. If I see her cry again, I swear I will be the first to cuff your hands and shut your mouth. And you won't need the police then."
He stepped back, standing tall, giving the trembling man one last piercing look. Then he turned to Cera, who stood dazed and pale, staring at him as if he were a phantom descended from heaven to take her hand.
"Cera, darling... finish your work. Good luck," he said, giving her a fleeting smile—a glimpse of tenderness in the middle of a storm.
He turned around, his steps steady as if the ground were clearing a path for him. With every step, the echoes of his words lingered in the air:
"You look like a broken chessboard, old man..." He paused for a moment, raising his arm slightly as if addressing an invisible audience, and added in a playful yet terrifying tone:
"Oh! Right... the pharmacy owner and I, we love moving the pieces. But next time, there will be only one player... and if he makes a mistake, it will be me."
He reached his car, and amidst the stares of bewilderment from passersby and employees, he opened the door calmly, as if announcing the end of a theatrical performance. But what followed was unexpected:
A laugh... a hysterical, jagged laugh burst from his lips, like the melody of a broken machine playing a mad tune, as if the pressures he carried had begun to sing in their own voice inside his head.
Before he could close the door, his phone rang, pulling him back to a reality of unbearable weight.
Aiden (sharply, as he answered):
"Is there another problem?"
The policeman on the other end sounded tense:
"Sir, there's a woman looking for her son... she hasn't been able to reach him since yesterday, despite their agreement to meet in the city. She is Dr. Arin's mother."
Aiden took a deep breath, his features suddenly hardening. Every trace of his mocking smile vanished.
"I'm on my way," he said coldly. He gripped the steering wheel and turned it sharply, the sound of the tires piercing the silence of the street like a warning cry from the heart of a hurricane.