It was him.
Flashback.
Seven years earlier.
A small city club. Loud music. Dim lights.
She was young, happy, dancing alone, laughter in her chest. He was at the bar in an immaculate black suit, watching her with intensity.
They talked, drank, and danced until the music stopped.
In the privacy of a hotel room, he gave her a necklace.
“This necklace is for the strongest girl I’ve ever met,” he whispered.
That night, she gave him her body.
The next morning, he was gone.
No words. No number. No name.
Only silence—and the necklace.
Back to the present.
Grace stared at him now, her voice trembling.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
Mika frowned.
“Sorry… have we met before?”
Grace let out a bitter laugh.
“No. You don’t remember. But I remember everything. And now you will remember too.”
Mika sat on a small wooden stool in the tiny room. The air smelled of herbs, smoke, and sickness.
Hope poured water into a cup and set it near her mother’s mat.
“Mommy, drink. You’re sweating again.”
Mika watched in silence, then turned to Grace.
“How did your daughter get that necklace?” he asked softly but firmly.
Grace lifted her eyes, her lips dry. She hesitated, then said, “I found it on the ground near the market.”
Mika leaned forward, staring into her eyes.
“That’s not true. This jewelry is unique. I had only one made. I gave it to someone years ago.”
Grace looked away.
“Maybe I got lucky. Things get lost, you know.”
Her hands trembled slightly.
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