Episode 29 — The Old You, or the One Now?

Episode 29 — The Old You, or the One Now?
The next morning, Nathan came again.

"Did you burn it?" Nathan's voice was soft, but enough to make Rae turn her head.

She was sitting on the guest house porch, an old piece of paper in her hand. It was a drawing of her childhood home, now burned at the edges. The morning fog still hung low around the yard, holding in the cold and damp.

"Nathan?? Why do you keep coming here?" Rae raised an eyebrow.

Nathan stood behind the small gate. His jacket was wet from the dew, so was his hair. His breath came out in little clouds.

"That paper. Did you burn it?"
"No," Rae answered, slowly standing up. "It just... happened. Somehow."

There was a pause.

"Do you want to come in, Nate?" she offered, without a smile.
Nathan didn’t answer. He just looked at the guest house. His gaze was sharp, but there was pain behind it.

"He’s gotten too deep into you, hasn’t he?"
Rae opened the gate, her steps heavy. "What do you mean?"

Nathan walked past her without replying. Rae followed him, closing the gate quietly behind her.



Inside, Rae made some tea. Plain ceramic cups were placed on the table. Nathan sat, but didn’t touch his drink.

"This isn’t you, Rae," he said at last. His voice was flat, but sharp. "You’re not someone who can just sit still while your wounds are covered with instant coffee."
"Or maybe you're the one who never believed wounds could heal?" Rae shot back, looking him straight in the eye.

Nathan narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "Are you still livestreaming? Still talking about justice? Or have you learned to speak the way of the people you once hated?"
"What are you saying, Nate?"

"You talk like him now. Slow. Careful. Calculated. Not like the Rae I knew...."

Rae fell silent. The cup in her hand shook a little. She put it back on the table.
"I'm tired, Nathan," she said, her voice rising. "I'm not like you. You can stay angry, but I can't. I'm trying to live.... Not just fight."

Nathan looked at her for a long time. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Then he’s already won...."

"Don’t talk to me like that! You don’t know anything about this place. Or about him. Or who I am now."
"I know enough, Rae. Enough to see how you're slowly stopping being yourself."

"And you're dumb enough to think it’s that simple," Rae replied quickly.
"Trouble keeps hitting me again and again. My mom died, my house burned down, and now the people I once fought for act like I’m the one to blame." Her voice shook but stayed firm.

A few seconds of silence passed. The only sound was the old clock ticking on the living room wall.
Nathan finally spoke, quiet but firm.

"Okay, Rae... Yesterday we protested again. At the Blackwood Dreamland project. And everything went wrong. Because you didn’t show up. Three people got arrested."

He took a deep breath and continued,
"Now there are only around thirty homes left on the southern coast. Including yours. They are houses Blackwood people haven’t taken yet."

Rae lowered her head. "I know...."
"But you stayed quiet??"
"I need time, Nate..."
"We don’t have time, Rae."



Rae’s thoughts drifted. Nathan’s voice faded slowly, like a siren in the distance. What remained were only shadows from the past, a small room at the community base, messy cables, the glow of laptop screens on their faces.

Back then, they sat side by side. So close, it felt like they shared one breath. 
Writing articles, planning live streams, building strategies. At that time, they believed in one simple thing: truth was strong enough to shine in the dark.

But that night, everything changed. Her laptop was hacked. A file was planted, on purpose. And then, a video was published. Edited. Fake. Rae had never done what the video showed.

Her laptop froze. Comments came in by the hundreds, then thousands, in just minutes. Insults, threats, fake news that used her name as fuel for public anger. Her fingers shook. She almost stopped breathing.

Then Nathan held her hand. Warm, steady, like an anchor in a storm.
“I’m here,” he had said. It was barely a whisper, but enough to keep her from falling apart.

Rae swallowed hard. Now, remembering it... she wasn’t even sure if that hand was still the same. Or if she was still the same.
Back then, she wanted to fight. Now, she just wanted to survive.... 

And she didn’t know when those two things became different choices.



Nathan stood up slowly. His eyes looked like someone who had given up, but was trying not to show it too much.
“If you don’t leave this place now...” his voice almost shook, but still sounded firm, “you’ll lose more than just your ideals. You’ll lose who you really are.”

Rae blinked. Her throat was dry. She wanted to speak, to deny it, to be angry.... but the words were too heavy. Her tongue felt frozen.

Nathan looked at her for a few seconds. Like he was waiting for something to change.
Then he turned, walking toward the door. His steps were quiet, but each one hit the wooden floor like a hammer. His hand reached for the door handle.

Rae finally spoke, soft but breaking, “I just... I don’t know how anymore, Nathan.”

Nathan turned slightly, half of his face touched by the morning light coming in.
“None of us do, Rae...” he said. “But the ones who know fear the most... are usually the ones who need to fight.”

He opened the door. Cold air rushed in, bringing a new silence.

“Wait…”

Nathan turned again, but only with his eyes.

“I never stopped caring,” Rae whispered. “I just... don’t know if I’m still worthy to talk about justice when I’m already so broken....”

Nathan gave a small nod. “It’s exactly because you’re broken that your words matter. But if you stay silent too long, they won’t just take your house, Rae. They’ll take your voice. And your heart.”

Silence...

Then the door closed with a sound that felt like an ending.
Nathan’s steps faded, heavy, swallowed by the morning fog.

Rae stood still for a few seconds. Then her body slowly fell to the floor, as if she could no longer carry the weight she had held for so long. 
Her tears broke free without warning. There was nothing graceful or poetic about it. Only sobs, full of pain.

She hugged her knees. Her chest felt tight. The room felt too big and too quiet, like a world that no longer wanted her in it.
“Am I still the Rae I used to be?” she thought. “Or am I too tired to return to whoever I used to believe I was?”

A picture of Kenny passed through her mind. His unreadable eyes. The way he stayed silent. The way he showed up without promises.
Rae didn’t know anymore, was he an enemy, or a shelter? Was he saving her... or slowly locking her in?

“If this place is a shelter... why does it feel like a comfortable prison?” she wondered, her tears still falling.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt truly alone.



Night fell like a thick blanket. The guest house was drowned in silence. Faint sounds of insects. Wind slipping through the window cracks.
Rae was in her room. The desk lamp gave off a soft, dim light. She looked again at the drawing of her house. The burned corner was still there. Still real.

Across the city, Kenny sat in a dark room. Only the soft blue light of small monitors lit his face. One side of the wall was filled with CCTV screens.
One by one, the cameras showed rooms: living room, kitchen, porch, storage. The timestamps were active. Only one screen was black: Rae’s room.

Kenny sipped cold coffee. His face was calm, but his eyes stayed alert.
He wrote something down in a small notebook beside him. Then he spoke, almost in a whisper:

“They seem to care about each other... but they talk too loud.”

Kenny’s face showed in the screen’s reflection. It was blurry, but sharp. He was still watching. Always.
And in that silence, something continued to burn....