)

Grayson immersed himself in the pool. He glided through the water, his movements fluid.

With each stroke, he propelled himself forward, the water embracing him with a cooling touch.

As he swam, Grayson focused on the rhythmic pattern of his breath and the soothing sensation of the water against his skin. The repetition of his strokes provided a sense of tranquillity, washing away his troubled thoughts.

His body moved effortlessly, guided by muscle memory. The water buoyed him up, relieving the burden he carried. With each lap, he felt a release of tension, his worries fading into the background.

The water carried him, offering a temporary respite from the turmoil within. As he swam, his mind cleared, allowing him to find a moment of peace and clarity.

But as he emerged from the pool and made his way back to his room, a faint sound caught his attention. It was a voice, distant yet familiar. Emily's voice. He felt his heart stop, and he froze in his tracks.

"Grayson," Emily's voice called out his name, reaching deep into his soul. It carried an echo of longing, a plea for his attention. Grayson's body tensed, a mix of fear and sadness flooding his veins.

His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his breath came in shallow gasps. His body, still tingling from the water's embrace, felt both weightless and heavy at the same time.

Time seemed to stand still as Grayson strained to hear the voice again. But all he could hear was the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the hotel. Doubt crept in, questioning his sanity and the reality of what he had heard.

Grayson continued on his way, his steps quickening as he reached his room. He took a quick shower and planned to go to bed early.

Drops of water cascaded from his locks, falling onto the tiled floor. The sound of his own breathing filled the silence as he attempted to regain his composure, to shake off the lingering effects of Mason's words.

"Grayson!" It was Emily's voice once again, but this time it carried a haunting cry, filled with anguish and desperation. He could feel the weight of her sorrow in his very core.

Desperately, Grayson tried to block out the sound, it's not real! He pressed the towel harder against his ears, as if to drown out the voice that seemed to pierce through his defences. Yet, it persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

And then, among the echoes of her cries, Emily's voice emerged with heartbreaking clarity. "Jameson chose Avery, and I choose you, Grayson. I choose you always," she whispered, her words like fragile tendrils that wrapped around his consciousness.

"Stop!" Grayson commanded, but it was no use. Grayson's body slumped against the wall, his legs giving way beneath him. He slowly crouched to the ground, hunched over, and his towel fell from his hands.

Tears welled up in Grayson's eyes as he fought to block out her voice, to convince himself that it was merely a figment of his imagination. "Grayson," Emily whispered again, her emotions were too much to bear.

He whispered to himself, trying to find solace in his own words, "It's not real. It's not real." But deep down, he knew that the echoes of her voice would continue to haunt him, echoing through the night.