T W O: Moonlit reflection

**Tega's P.O.V.**

When I was younger, my dad was always off on one business trip or another, so it was just me and my mom, traveling the world together. By the time I was eight, I had already seen most of the world. Paris, New York, Cairo—we conquered them all. Our next stop was Japan, a place I'd been dreaming of visiting, but then... she got sick. She brushed it off, saying it was just a little thing, nothing to worry about. But I knew better. I could see the fatigue in her eyes, the way her smiles didn't quite reach them anymore.

She insisted I go ahead, told me she'd come to get me once she felt better. "I'll be right behind you," she said, her voice light, as if she were talking about something trivial, like the weather. So, I went. I loved traveling, so what harm could it do?

Winston, our butler, accompanied me, while Dad stayed back with Mom. The flight was long, but I was too excited to sleep, imagining all the places we'd visit together once she joined me. But the moment we landed in Japan, everything shattered. The not-so-big deal of an illness turned out to be the biggest deal of all—my mom had died, and I wasn't there. I wasn't there to hold her hand, to say goodbye.

The news hit me like a physical blow. The ground tilted, and the next thing I knew, darkness swallowed me whole.

When I came to, I was surrounded by doctors and nurses, their voices a blur, words spilling out that I couldn't piece together. They kept talking, explaining what had happened to me, but I wasn't listening. All I wanted was for them to tell me that the call was just a nightmare, that my mom was okay. But no one said the words I so desperately needed to hear.

I couldn't speak for weeks. Maybe it was a medical condition, or maybe I just couldn't find the right words—either way, nothing came out when I tried. I wanted to scream, to tell them that they were wrong, that this wasn't how it was supposed to go, but my voice had abandoned me.

They sent me to a therapist. She spoke in soothing tones, offering words meant to console me, but they bounced off like pebbles thrown at a brick wall. I played along, pretended her sessions helped, but they didn't. How could they? I lost count of how many times I thought about ending it all, but every time, fear stopped me. Fear of what came next, or maybe fear of the nothingness that might follow.

Eventually, they declared me 'healed,' and the therapy sessions ended. They said time would heal all wounds, that I just needed to wait. But their voices—they echoed in my mind, like an annoying tune you can't shake. They made it sound so simple, so natural, like I was supposed to just get over it.

I decided to stay in Japan, to honor my mom's memory. It was the last place we were supposed to visit together. But Dad... he kept moving. He traveled even more after she died, always on the go, as if he could outrun the grief. When he finally came back a year later, it wasn't to console me—it was to introduce me to my soon-to-be stepmom.

"Is he crazy?" I thought. "It's only been a year. Did he even love her?" Maybe I really was the problem, seeing as even he had moved on. Maybe time did heal all wounds, and I just had to wait for it to heal mine too.

Years passed, and now here I am, waiting at 11 PM at the airport for Reagan. Back when I first became an idol, Reagan was the one who managed me. He was engaged, on the brink of marriage, but his fiancée bailed on him at the last minute. He was left alone, and so was I. Dad was always gone, so whenever I was in Japan, I stayed with Reagan. It was a win-win—I got someone to watch over me, and he got a companion to keep his loneliness at bay.

Things were good until last year when he quit the entertainment industry. Said he'd made enough money and didn't need to work anymore. But I stayed with him anyway. I guess being around him made me feel less... empty.

The airport was about to close. I texted Reagan, asking when he'd come to get me. His reply was a casual "Might take a bit longer. Maybe go to a friend's house?" A friend? I don't have friends. So I waited.

A woman with a young child approached me. The kid looked up at me with wide eyes, clearly a fan. She asked for a picture, and I agreed. Before I knew it, more people were gathering around, all wanting the same. For a brief moment, the loneliness faded. The airport staff even extended the closing time by an hour just for me. It was almost... nice. But then, it all went south.

One man approached, his demeanor off, but I didn't think much of it. He asked for a picture, and I said yes. I noticed the man's clenched jaw, but before he could fully process the warning signs, the fist came flying and instead of a smile, I got a fist to the face—a hard one. The shock was as sharp as the pain. He went for another punch, but the security guards grabbed him in time, dragging him away.

"You stole my girlfriend!" he shouted, his voice raw with anger.

I blinked, confusion lacing my voice as I replied, "Calm down, man. I don't even know who you are."

"Don't know who I am?" he spat, struggling against the guards. "Typical. Come face me man to man, you bastard! You ruined my life."

"Language, am I right?" I quipped, forcing a smirk, trying to defuse the tension. The crowd chuckled, but it felt hollow.

The man broke free from the guards' grip and charged at me, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Instinct took over—I sidestepped, and he went crashing to the ground. The security quickly restrained him again, dragging him away as he hurled curses. My if only I had a dollar for every time I was accused of stealing someone's girlfriend, I'd still be a millionaire.

I needed air, fresh air. The kind that wasn't laced with the stench of anger and desperation. "I'll be back," I told the crowd, stepping away, seeking the solace of solitude outside.

To think I'm getting fresh air in a bathroom, but I guess this is all I could get. The first-class men's room at this hour is deserted—no one here but me, myself, and I. I splash cold water on my face, the droplets running down as I stare at my reflection. My mind drifts back to that crazy guy earlier. He was obviously unhinged, but was he right? Did I steal his girlfriend? I've stolen my fair share in the past, but I don't remember him. Still, fans like him pop up now and then, blaming me for their messed-up lives just because I'm popular.

I sigh, "So fucking stupid."

My phone vibrates on the sink, snapping me back to reality. It's a message from Stella: "When are you coming back from Nigeria?"

Wasn't she the one who couldn't wait for me to leave? Now she's asking when I'll be back. Oh well, I'll reply.

*Looks like someone can't get enough of me.*

She replies instantly, "Oh, stop it. We have a photoshoot this week. I'm texting to see if your trip might mess up our schedule."

*Of course, it's about work. For a moment, I thought she cared. But why does that make me feel...bad?*

**Tega:** "It's the middle of the night, and that's what you're thinking about?"

**Stella:** "The nightly bat gets the worm, right?"

**Tega:** "That's not even how the saying goes."

**Stella:** "Whatever. Stop beating around the bush and answer my question."

**Tega:** "I arrived in Japan earlier today."

**Stella:** "Then why are you nowhere to be found?"

**Tega:** "I'm at the airport, waiting for Reagan to pick me up. I've been here for two hours."

**Stella:** "It's the middle of the night, you said so yourself. Why are you still there? Shouldn't you be anywhere else by now?"

**Tega:** "Look who's suddenly worried. I can't leave without causing a scene, so Reagan's handling the media."

**Stella:** "So, what are you doing while you wait?"

**Tega:** "Oh, you know, just signing autographs and taking selfies with adoring fans."

**Stella:** "Is that safe? Don't you need security to keep things under control?"

**Tega:** "Is it safe?, apparently not, since I just got punched for supposedly stealing some guy's girlfriend."

*Stella's voice softened for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Are you okay?" she asked, but quickly masked her concern with a teasing tone. "You know, despite that punch messing up your pretty face."*

**Tega:** "Ha ha, very funny, I just got punched, and that's what you're asking?"

**Stella:** "So, did you?"

**Tega:** "I don't think so. But even if I did, I doubt it justifies getting punched in the face."

**Stella:** "You're not seriously justifying stealing a man's girlfriend."

**Tega:** "I mean, if she left him, there had to be a good reason, right?"

**Stella:** "Where are you right now?"

**Tega:** "First-class men's bathroom."

**Stella:** "Is anyone around?"

**Tega:** "It's the first-class men's bathroom—of course, no one's around."

**Stella:** "Hold on for a minute."

**Tega:** *[waits a moment, then receives a video call request]*

**Tega:** *[accepts the call, sees Stella in her pajamas for the first time]* "What are those?" *[chuckles]*

**Stella:** "Shut it. Can I get a close-up of your face?"

**Tega:** *[brings the phone closer]* "This close enough?"

**Stella:** "Yeah, he really did a number on your face. Pity—that was your only good feature."

**Tega:** *[annoyed]* "Okay, that's enough."

**Stella:** "Your main attraction."

**Tega:** "Not everyone's attracted, though." *[thinking about how she's the only girl who doesn't fall for his charm]*

*…awkward silence…*

**Tega:** "Just stop it."

**Stella:** "Sorry. So, what are you going to do about it?"

**Tega:** "Nothing. I'll let it go."

**Stella:** *[gives him a knowing look]* "Really? I don't buy it."

**Tega:** "Okay, fine. I already got my revenge—I slipped the guard some money to rough him up a bit."

**Stella:** "Exploiting money to inflict suffering… yeah, that sounds more like you.So when you aren't paying for people to get beaten up what do you do?."

**Tega:** *Smirking.* *"Oh, you'd be surprised. I'm actually good at a lot of things."*

**Stella:** *"Like what?"*

**Tega:** *"Well, for one, I'm good at handling people's jealousy. They hate it when you have both talent and looks. Makes them real bitter."*

**Stella:** *Raising an eyebrow.* *"Handling jealousy? You must have a lot of practice, then.(She says sarcastically.)"

**Tega:** *""You have no idea. They say, 'The sky doesn't fall on the ground's head.' I'm the sky, and the ground... well, it's always trying to bring me down. Sometimes I wonder how I survive, but I guess that's where you leave room for God to work."*

**Stella:** *Laughing softly.* *"That's pretty deep for someone who just got sucker-punched."*

**Tega:** *"Hey, life's about balance, right? Besides, I don't let a little punch throw me off. I've got bigger things to worry about."*

**Stella:** *"Like what?"*

**Tega:** *"Like why the world's leading idol is stuck in an airport bathroom at midnight, talking to someone who doesn't even care."*

**Stella:** *"You sure about that? I did video call you, didn't I?"*

**Tega:** *"Touché. But I think I'll call you back. I need to find one of my cosmetic cases. I think I left it in the airport."*

**Stella:** "So, how was your trip to Nigeria?" *[quickly changes the subject]*

**Tega:** "It was okay."

**Stella:** "What about your dad? Last I remember, he was an ass."

**Tega:** "Was and still is."

**Stella:** "I'd expect nothing less from the man responsible for your birth."

**Tega:** *[thinks about retorting, but decides against it]* "So, what about you? How are you doing?"

**Stella:** "That's weird."

**Tega:** "What's weird?"

**Stella:** "You not insulting me—that's weird. You always seemed to enjoy it."

**Tega:** "Well, things aren't always as they seem. Plus, you should never judge a book by its cover."

**Stella:** "Because the insides may be worse."

**Tega:** "Again, that's not how the saying goes."

**Stella:** "It should be. Let's see, your cover—an egotistical asshole."

**Tega:** "Wait…"

**Stella:** "So, your insides—a super egotistical asshole."

**Tega:** "Wow, that was harsh, even for you."

**Stella:** "Thanks, I've been practicing."

**Tega:** "Okay."

**Stella:** "Okay? What's wrong? Why aren't you making me regret calling you?"

**Tega:** "It's nothing."

**Stella:** "What happened?"

**Tega:** "It's really nothing. But if I were to ask, how popular would you say I am?"

**Stella:** "Very. You're the world's leading idol for a reason. Did something happen to make you question that?"

**Tega:** "Yes, actually. Earlier, I asked a passerby if they wanted a selfie, and they asked me who I was."

**Stella:** "And that made you feel…?"

**Tega:** "Bad. Really bad. What am I not doing right?"

**Stella:** "Trust me, you're not the problem."

**Tega:** "And how do you know that?"

**Stella:** "I just do."

**Tega:** "If I'm not the problem, then what is?"

**Stella:** "Honestly, I think nothing is the problem. We have billions of people in this world—you can't expect everyone to know you."

**Tega:** "Yeah, you're right. It's his fault for not being connected."

**Stella:** "Wait, I never said that."

**Tega:** "I think I'll have to call you back. I'm looking for one of my cosmetic cases—I think I left it at the airport."

**Stella:** "Then consider it gone."

**Tega:** "It's not gone."

**Stella:** "Trust me, it is. I lose things in airports all the time. When I call, they either don't answer or, by some miracle, if they do, they say something like, 'Me no speak English.'"

**Tega:** "'Me no speak English' yeah that's a lie

**Stella** "It really isn't."

**Tega** "Well, I'd you're telling the truth. that's something that can happen to you,not me."

**Stella:** "We'll see. I suggest you not waste time and let it go."

**Tega:** "Never. I'll call you back when I get it."

I hung up with Stella and took a deep breath before dialling the customer service line. As I waited for someone to pick up, I thought about how much I hated dealing with lost items. Finally, a voice answered, and I explained my situation: 'Hi, I think I left my cosmetic case at the airport...'"

"Uh, me no speak English." Then they hang up.

"Motherfucker." I mutter, heading back to the terminal. They probably think I left. Well, the joke's on them.

*As I walk towards the nearest customer care desk, I glance around to find those who were supposed to be waiting for me. But they're gone. What happened?*

They left.

*The remaining people around are just passerby, their eyes briefly on me before they return to their phones. But then, they all start looking at me again, their gazes lingering longer this time. Is there something wrong with me? I pull out my pocket mirror to check my appearance.*

*Blood. It's trickling from my nose, staining my face. Damn, that punch really did a number on me. I grab a napkin and wipe it away, offering a strained smile to the onlookers.*

*But why are they still staring?*

*Just before the panic takes over, I pull out my pocket mirror one last time, hoping to see something normal, something reassuring. But instead of my reflection, I see blood—bright, crimson blood—streaming down my face. And then the mirror cracks, splintering into a web of fractures, but it's not the mirror that's broken. It's me.*

*My reflection sneers back at me, eyes filled with malice. "You're a mess," it whispers. "You can't keep it together, can you?"*

*I gasp, dropping the mirror. It shatters on the ground, fragments scattering. Desperate, I kneel, trying to piece them back together, trying to see myself again, but all I see is blood—my blood—staining the ground, filling the cracks.*

*The room starts spinning, and that's when I see it. The blood isn't just in the mirror.More blood, and this time it's not just on my face—it's spilling down onto my shirt, seeping through the fabric. Panic rises in me as I try to wipe it away, but it won't stop. The more I wipe, the more it spreads. It's everywhere, pooling around me, flowing like a river.My breathing quickens, and I suddenly feel the urge to run. I can't let them see me like this.* Panic surges through me, and I stumble back, tripping over my own feet as I start to run.*

*I start to sprint, trying to escape their stares, but the blood... it won't stop. And then it happens. Water begins to seep from my shoes, trickling onto the ground. It fills the space around me, quickly rising, submerging everything. I push myself to run faster, but the water keeps coming, faster, stronger.*

*The room fills with water, and I'm running out of air. Why now? Why is this happening to me? I need to breathe—I need to survive.*

*Just then, my phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from the chaos.*

*It's a message from Stella: "You found it yet?"*

*No, but I'll die before I admit defeat. Literally.*

*Another notification pops up—it's from Reagen. But as I try to read it, dizziness hits me like a wave. The letters blur, and I stumble, reaching out to steady myself. My heart pounds louder than the plane's engines that roared just moments ago.*

*My hand trembles as I try to focus on the message, but the dizziness intensifies, dragging me into a foggy haze. I blink hard, trying to shake it off, but it's overwhelming—like an unseen force pressing down on me.*

*Before I can react, my vision narrows, and the world fades to black. The phone slips from my fingers, landing with a soft thud on the tarmac. But now it's floating in the water. What's going on?*

*I'm inside a giant, transparent glass cube, and the water keeps rising, filling it. I can't breathe. I try to scream for help, but only bubbles escape my mouth. The people outside... they don't see me. They just keep going about their lives, oblivious to my struggle.*

*As the water fills the cube, the darkness closes in around me. It's so dark down here... I can't hear anything. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—just bubbles. Please, someone, help me. I'm drowning. I'm dying. But no one hears me. No one sees me.*

*I pound on the glass, desperate for someone—anyone—to notice. But no one does. No one cares. It's like I'm invisible, like I don't exist.*

*The water rises higher, and I know I'm running out of time. I can't hold my breath any longer. Why doesn't anyone see me?*I thrash against the glass, but it's useless. The water's too deep now, too strong. My lungs burn, my vision blurs, and the weight of the water drags me down, deeper into the abyss.**

*My thoughts spiral as I prepare to give in, to let the water take me. Maybe Stella was right. Maybe my looks are the only thing that mattered. Without them, I'm nothing.*

*But just as I decide to surrender, the glass shatters, and the water rushes out. But it's too late. I'm already losing consciousness, the world fading away as people finally start to gather around me, staring down with confused, pitying eyes.*

*Why now?*

*I try to tell them to look away, to stop seeing me like this, but I can't. The darkness is pulling me under again, faster this time.*

*I feel the cold tarmac beneath me as I regain a sliver of consciousness. The world is a blur, shapes and colors melding together. My head pounds, and my body feels heavy, weighed down by invisible chains.*

*I try to sit up, but the effort is too much, and I collapse back onto the ground. The night is alive with people, but none of them are here for me. For a moment, I wonder if this is all just a dream, but the sharp pain in my chest tells me otherwise.*

*My phone lies a few feet away, the screen still lit with Reagen's message. I reach out weakly, my fingers brushing against it, but I can't summon the strength to pick it up. The darkness is closing in again, and this time, I don't have the energy to fight it.*

*As my vision fades, one thought lingers: No one knows where I am. I'm alone, far from home, and if I don't wake up, how long would it take for someone to find me?