Dyana Rosey stood in front of the door, knocking softly.

The sound of rain outside seemed to sing the same song of sorrow echoing in her heart.

“Emma… please open the door,” she said gently, though her voice carried clear worry.

There was no answer. Only the sound of restrained breathing from inside the room, and every now and then, a small sob that tried to stay hidden.

Dyana Rosey placed her palm against the door, her voice trembling.

“Emma, I know you can hear me. I know how you feel right now… but running away and hiding won’t change anything.”

From inside came Emma’s voice  hoarse and full of pain.

“Dyan, please go away. I don’t want to see anyone. I… I’m ashamed.”

Dyana Rosey took a deep breath, calming herself before answering.

“Ashamed? Of what, Emma? Because your father made mistakes?” She paused, her tone softening. “That’s not your fault, Emma. No one gets to choose who their parents are.”

The door remained shut. But Dyana Rosey knew Emma was listening. She continued, her voice deeper now, filled with emotion.

“You’ve always been the first to comfort me when I felt like breaking down. You told me that no matter what people say, we’re still worth something. So why can’t you believe that about yourself now?”

Suddenly, there was the sound of a key turning. The door opened slightly, and Emma appeared her eyes swollen, hair messy, her face heavy with grief.

“Dyan… everyone knew back then. They looked at me like I was trash. The daughter of a drug addict. And now you know too. I’m ashamed, Dyan…” Her voice cracked at the end. “I’m not strong, Dyan. I’m not as strong as you.”

Dyana Rosey stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

“Don’t say that again. Even though we’ve only known each other a short time, I already see you as my own sister. I know you’re strong, Emma. You’re just hurting right now, and that’s normal. But I promise… I won’t let you face this alone.”

Emma closed her eyes in Dyana Rosey’s arms, tears streaming freely.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, tapping against the window as if crying along with them.

“Sometimes,” Dyana Rosey whispered, “we can’t choose the family we’re born into… but we can choose who stays by our side when the world looks down on us.”

And that night, in the arms of a friend, Emma finally cried her heart out  not out of shame anymore, but because someone still believed in her when she no longer could believe in herself.

Emma’s sobs gradually quieted down, leaving only the faint sound of sniffles.

Dyana Rosey remained by her side, gently wiping the last tears from Emma’s cheeks with a tissue already damp from use.

“That’s enough drama for one night, don’t you think?” Dyana Rosey said softly with a small smile. “If this were a TV drama, our ratings would be through the roof right now.”

Emma let out a small startled laugh, her eyes still red but her lips curving faintly.

“You… you can still joke at times like this.”

Dyana Rosey raised her brows playfully. “Of course! I’m a part-time comedian, didn’t you know? If I don’t make you laugh, the production team from Stairway To Heaven will cut my salary.”

Emma chuckled, covering her mouth. “Stairway To Heaven? You’re unbelievable.”

Dyana Rosey thumped her chest with mock pride. “Hey, without me, this drama would flop. I’m the comic relief supporting heroine.”

“Supporting the heroine?” Emma teased, giggling. “Heroine or clown?”

“Both,” Dyana Rosey replied smoothly. “The only difference is, I can’t cry for more than three minutes or my makeup melts.”

Emma finally burst into genuine laughter, and the remaining traces of her tears disappeared behind her smile.

Dyana Rosey smiled in satisfaction, happy to see that glow return to her friend’s face, even just a little.

“See?” Dyana Rosey said, patting Emma’s shoulder. “If life were a drama, don’t let the sad episodes drag on too long. Sometimes you have to create your own funny scenes so your heart doesn’t forget how to be happy.”

Emma nodded slowly, her smile lingering.

“Thank you, Dyan… for making me laugh again.”

Dyana shot her a playful look. “Laughing isn’t enough. Tomorrow, we’re going out for ice cream. My treat  but don’t pick expensive toppings, I’m broke.”

Emma laughed again, this time freely and lightly. The room that had once been filled with tears now felt warm, two friends sitting side by side, sharing small laughter that closed the night with a spark of hope.

***

The black cloth over Kevin’s eyes was yanked off roughly.

The glare of the ceiling light stabbed at his vision, forcing him to squint before slowly taking in his surroundings.

The room was cold, walled with concrete, lit only by a single hanging bulb that swayed lazily.

The air smelled of metal and dried blood.

In front of him sat a sleek black sofa under the circle of light.

On it sat a man in a dark suit, hair neatly combed back  handsome, yet terrifying in his composure.

His dark eyes studied Kevin the way a predator studies its captured prey.

Beside him stood a broad-shouldered guard, expressionless.

“Welcome,” the man’s deep voice rumbled with authority. “Sit quietly. I only want to talk.”

Kevin breathed hard, trying to stay calm.

“Who are you? Ronald’s guy? Why am I here? If it’s about the debt ,I told him I’d pay next week!”

The man didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward slightly, crossing his legs, running his thumb over a black ring engraved with intricate designs.

“You don’t need to know who I am.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

Kevin shook his head slowly, confusion spreading across his face.

BANG!

The tall guard slammed his fist into the glass table in front of them, shattering it into glittering shards. Kevin flinched hard, nearly falling off his chair.

“Don’t play games with Mr. Marchos!” the guard barked.

Marchos Alexander lifted his hand slightly with a small gesture, but enough to make the guard retreat immediately.

Then he stood, moving toward Kevin with slow, deliberate steps. Each one echoed through the empty room like the ticking of a bomb.

Marchos chuckled quietly, a cold, chilling sound.

“Don’t understand?” He leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on Kevin. “You touched Dyana Rosey.”

Kevin froze. “What?”

Marchos Alexander  advanced slowly, each step heavy with restrained rage. He stopped right in front of Kevin.

“You touched her shoulder,” he said softly, almost whispering  but the venom in his tone made Kevin’s skin crawl.

“You put your filthy hand on her shoulder.”

Kevin racked his mind, trying to recall the name. He was confused, terrified, uncertain why he was even here.

“I—I just—”

CRASH!

Marchos Alexander  slammed his fist onto another glass table, shattering it to pieces. Shards cut his knuckles, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Don’t you dare make excuses!” he roared. His eyes burned with something beyond anger, an obsession that defied reason.

“Rosey doesn’t belong to anyone. Even a touch that small… is a sin.”

The air grew heavy with tension. Kevin tried to move back, but before he could, the guard struck him hard across the face. He fell to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth and dripping down his chin.

Marchos Alexander sat back down, legs crossed, fingers tapping slowly on his armrest  eyes locked on the broken man before him.

Kevin clutched his jaw, the pain pulsing through him.

“I remember her now… I didn’t do anything. I swear! I just asked my daughter Emma for money. I needed it to pay my debt. I don’t even know who that woman is…” His voice cracked, barely audible.

The guard stepped forward again, ready to hit him, but Marchos raised his hand slightly.

“Dyana Rosey,” he repeated quietly, savoring each syllable.

“That name is not to be spoken, not to be touched… especially by a man like you.”

Kevin swallowed hard, trembling. “I swear… I didn’t know who she was. I swear to God, I meant no harm. She said she wanted to help me, that’s all. I didn’t force her!”

Marchos Alexander exhaled a cloud of smoke, eyes never leaving Kevin.

But in those hazel eyes burned something deeper  rage, disgust… and something darker still: obsession.

“She gave you money?” he asked quietly.

Kevin hesitated, then nodded. “She felt sorry for me… said she wanted to help.”

Marchos let out a low laugh  calm, but cutting.

“Pity,” he repeated, as if the word itself disgusted him. He looked down at the ash on his cigarette, then back at Kevin.

“That’s just like her. Kind. Naïve. Always helping the wrong people.”

Kevin stayed silent, sensing that every word from this man carried a deadly weight.

Marchos stood, walking closer again.

“You know what I hate the most?” he said softly. “People who make her worry. No matter how small the reason.”

Kevin froze, hardly breathing. “I… I’m sorry.”

Marchos Alexander  reached into his coat and pulled out a checkbook. He wrote swiftly, signed his name, and placed the check on the remaining table surface.

“Take it,” he said calmly.

Kevin looked down and the amount was huge. Enough to pay off everything and start over.

“Pay your debts. Start a new life. But…” Marchos Alexander leaned down, staring straight into his eyes.

“Never show your face to Dyana Rosey again. Don’t go near her, don’t speak her name, and don’t even dare look at her from afar.”

His tone wasn’t loud  but it carried power that froze Kevin’s blood.

“If you break that promise…” Marchos Alexander pressed a finger to Kevin’s chest lightly, “…I’ll find you. And when I do, no amount of money will save you.”

Kevin nodded rapidly, drenched in sweat. “I understand… I promise.”

Marchos Alexander  smiled faintly, satisfied. He patted Kevin’s cheek twice  gently, yet terrifyingly intimate.

“Good. Now leave.”

Two guards came forward, untying Kevin and dragging him out.

When they were gone, Marchos remained seated, watching the smoke twist in the air. A faint smile curved his lips.

He pulled a photo of Dyana Rosey from his wallet   and traced her image with a fingertip, eyes glowing with something dark and possessive.

“You will be mine,” he whispered softly. “Forever mine.”

The last wisp of smoke disappeared into the still air. Only his breath remained  heavy, deep, and filled with chilling desire.

The rain was still falling when Kevin was dumped by the roadside.

The sound of the car engine faded into the distance, leaving him alone in the cold and darkness.

He gasped for breath, knees pressed against the wet asphalt.

His hands trembled as he pulled the check from his pocket, a small piece of paper with a number big enough to end all his suffering.

His eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his face. The rain mixed with a smile that slowly crept onto his lips.

“Finally…” he whispered. “Finally, I’m free.”

But when his gaze fell on the signature  Marchos Alexander  that smile faltered.

Something heavy pressed against his chest. The name carried a cold weight that sent a chill through him.

He clenched the check tightly, staring down the empty street ahead. The streetlights flickered, mocking the thoughts spinning in his head.

“If he can give this much once…” he muttered, voice shifting into something darker, “…maybe I can get more.”

His eyes gleamed  not with hope, but with greed.

The night wind rustled the trees, their branches whispering warnings he didn’t hear.

Under the drizzle, Kevin’s smile returned  thin, twisted, dangerous.