chapter 37

The following day

The mall was lively that afternoon, filled with families, shoppers, and tourists buzzing through its glossy floors. Elena was in no rush. Dressed in a simple yet elegant cream blouse and wide-legged trousers, she had just picked up some skincare products and was heading toward the café when a sudden cry broke the background noise.

"Help! Someone, please help her!"

Elena's head snapped toward the source of the commotion. Just ahead, an elderly woman had collapsed near the escalators, her shopping bags strewn across the floor, and a small crowd had begun to form around her.

Without hesitation, Elena rushed forward, dropping her own shopping bags and kneeling beside the woman.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?" she asked, already checking for signs of breathing and responsiveness.

The woman's eyes fluttered, and she groaned weakly.

A trembling bystander said, "I think she fainted."

"She's dehydrated. And possibly low blood sugar," Elena said calmly, her years of self-learning and emergency experience kicking in. "Someone call the mall emergency line!"

"I already did!" a young man nearby shouted.

Elena gently propped the woman's head up using her blazer, offering soothing words to keep her conscious. Moments later, the mall's emergency staff rushed in with a stretcher, and Elena quickly briefed them on what had happened.

"She needs fluids immediately," Elena said, stepping back as they lifted the woman.

The crowd began to disperse, murmuring about the young woman's quick actions. Elena remained calm, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, unaware that someone had been watching her the entire time.

Not far away, leaning against the rail on the upper level of the mall, a tall man in a charcoal-gray coat had stopped mid-step when he saw her.

He wasn't sure what had drawn his attention—maybe the urgency in her movements, or the familiarity of her presence—but his gaze had locked onto Elena like a magnet.

She reminded him of someone.

A long-lost face. One that had lived in his memory like a ghost.

His throat tightened. "Mom?"

He blinked, then quickly shook his head. "No. That's not possible."

But he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Her features—so hauntingly familiar. The arch of her brow, the shape of her lips, even the way she stood—it was as though the past had materialized in front of him. He rubbed the back of his neck and muttered under his breath, "I guess everyone has a lookalike somewhere on earth."

Still, the strange flutter in his chest didn't ease. As Elena turned to collect her bags and disappear down the corridor, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph—worn, slightly faded. It was of a woman in her twenties, standing beside a small boy. The resemblance was... uncanny.

The man stared at the photo, then glanced back toward the direction Elena had gone. Something about her aura stirred a memory he hadn't felt in years. He hesitated, then tucked the photo away and followed her path from a distance, curiosity simmering just beneath the surface.

Back in her car, Elena let out a breath. "That woman will be okay," she murmured, starting the engine. But something in her gut tingled—a sense that someone had been watching her, eyes that lingered too long. She glanced around but saw nothing unusual.

Still, she made a mental note to be more alert.

Because she didn't believe in coincidences anymore.