Episode 35 — “Not Just About Fighting”

Episode 35 — “Not Just About Fighting”
“Don’t… Please stop…”

The words slipped from Rae’s lips like a thread snapping from its knot. Her body trembled under the blanket, breath uneven, cold sweat soaking her neck and forehead.

Behind her eyelids, her eyes moved fast. She was trapped in a dream that felt too real, or maybe a memory disguised as a dream.

“I’m tired… but I don’t even know how to stop,” her thoughts whispered, drifting between sleep and waking.

The room was warm, but Rae’s body felt like it was buried in ice. She moved slowly, trying to escape from something she couldn’t see.
Whatever it was, it held her tightly, keeping her in a dream that slowly turned into a place she knew too well…



The house stood still....
Not broken. Not black. Not covered in ash like the last time she saw it in her blurry, burned memories.

The walls were clean, slightly glowing under the soft orange light from the hanging lamp in the living room. A light breeze carried the scent of cinnamon and bay leaves. The door stood open, like it was waiting for her to come home.

Rae stood at the doorway. Her body hesitated, but her feet kept walking. It felt like something invisible was pulling her into this place.... the place she knew so well, and missed so deeply.

“But this is impossible,” she thought. “This house… it’s already gone.”

Her steps touched the clean floor. The kitchen looked like a painting from the past: pans hanging neatly, the wooden table shining, and there, in the corner of the kitchen, sat a woman with a straight back.

Her mother…

Stirring soup in an old metal pot. Her head slightly bent, hair tied up. That calm smile hadn’t changed at all from Rae’s memory. The smile that always appeared in tired moments, never angry, just quiet.

Rae couldn’t breathe....

She wanted to speak. To run and hug her. But her body froze. Her voice was gone.
“Mama…” she said in her mind, but her tongue was stiff. Only air came out.

Her mother didn’t turn around. But she spoke anyway, as if she knew Rae was there. As if she knew Rae needed to hear this:

“Fighting is noble, Rae. But living… living is harder. And more important.”

The words flowed gently, like warm water down a dry throat. But they also felt like a small knife, slowly cutting.
Rae fell to her knees. The clean tile touched her skin. Tears rolled down her face, quietly, endlessly. 

She didn’t wipe them. She just looked at her mother, afraid to blink, afraid if she turned her head even a little, the woman would disappear.

“Please don’t leave yet… let me stay here a bit longer…”

She wanted to speak. To say sorry. To ask for time. But her voice still didn’t come. Only the soft sound of the spoon stirring in the pot, and her mother’s calm, too-calm breathing filled the room.

Then she smelled it. Smoke....

Rae turned. In the corner of the room, near the spice rack, a small fire started to crawl up the curtain. Then it spread to the ceiling, to the walls.

“Mama… there’s fire…! Mama…!”

But still, no sound came. Only her lips moved. Her tongue felt heavy like it wasn’t hers.
Her mother stayed where she was. Stirring the soup. Unbothered. Like the fire wasn’t real. Or maybe… like it was already a part of them.

“Don’t you see it, Ma? There’s a fire. You have to get out. We have to go… come with me!”

Rae tried to stand, but her legs couldn’t move. Her knees shook, weak and useless. She crawled, slowly, inch by inch, trying to reach her. To grab her hand. To pull her away.

But just as her fingers almost touched the edge of the table—
A white light flooded the kitchen. Like a silent explosion. Smoke swallowed everything. The smell of burning filled her lungs. The walls collapsed into light.

Rae closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them again… her mother would still be there.
But all that remained was emptiness....



She woke up.

Her breath was short. Her body felt hot. Her pillow was wet, but not from sweat. It was from tears. Rae stared at the ceiling, searching for the pieces of a dream not yet finished. But there was only silence. And pain...

Slowly, she sat up. Each movement felt heavy. Her feet carried her to the window. The morning air stung her skin, but she let it touch her. The cold was calming.

“I want to go home…” she whispered. “But where is home now??”



Knock. Knock...

Rae turned. A soft knock at the door.
Kenny walked in without saying much, holding a small tray with a cup of tea and a cold towel.

“Rae… I heard you were restless,” he said quietly. He placed the tea on the small table, then sat at the edge of the bed.

Rae looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, but the anger had gone.
Kenny lifted the towel and moved closer.

“Is it okay, Rae?” he asked.

Rae nodded. Slowly.
The cold towel touched her forehead. The feeling was calming. Then, without a word, Kenny moved it down to her neck, wiping gently. Not in a rush…

Then suddenly, Rae closed her eyes.

She shifted slightly, leaning in, and rested her head on Kenny’s shoulder. Quiet. No crying. No words. Just a hug, one full of the kind of exhaustion that goes beyond sleep.

Kenny hugged her back. His left arm wrapped around her back with a soft, slow movement. Not too tight. Just enough to say, “I’m here, Rae.”

But far in the corner of the room, hidden on a high shelf, a small camera was still recording everything. And in the reflection of its lens, it showed that Kenny’s hand… was holding a bit too tightly.

A bit too long.
And a bit too calm...



Still in the morning…
The balcony faced a small garden behind glass walls. The early air touched their skin gently.

Rae sat in a wicker chair, wearing an oversized gray sweater. Her feet were pulled up onto the seat, and her body curled like someone trying to hide from the world.

Kenny sat beside her, but not too close.
Birds sang somewhere in the distance. But neither of them spoke....

“Rae… It’s okay to be angry,” Kenny said at last. His voice was soft, like wind slipping through a door.

Rae kept her eyes straight ahead. No reply.

“But remember… it’s also okay to fall in love. If you want to.”

Rae turned her head slightly. Not directly toward him. But for the first time, her eyes didn’t look hard. They weren’t hiding or sharp.
Only calm. And very tired.



That night, Rae stood in front of the mirror. Her hair was still messy, but her body stood straighter. She wore a thin sweater. Her left hand touched her stomach, as if trying to feel whether this body was hers again.

She went downstairs and opened the front door. The night air greeted her, carrying the smell of grass and city dust. She stepped outside the house for the first time since falling ill. Her pace was slow, but each step showed quiet determination.

Near the Main Gate, two bodyguards looked up. They started to move, but Kenny appeared silently from the kitchen.
“Let her go,” he said. Soft, but firm.

The guards held back. But one of them gave a small signal into his headset.



The walking path around the elite neighborhood was quiet. Garden lights gave off a pale yellow glow. Rae walked slowly, her hands in her sweater pockets, her shoulders pulled forward like she was bracing against the wind.

From a distance, a black car stopped quietly. Not too close. Not too obvious. Someone inside held a tablet, recording Rae live, to keep Kenny updated.

But Rae kept walking. She didn’t know. Or maybe she did, and just didn’t care.
Her steps continued. As she walked, Rae kept thinking…

“I’m not healed yet,” she thought.

Then her lips moved. Quietly.
“But I’m not finished either....”

And in the silence that followed her, Rae’s steps felt like the first cracks in a wall that had trapped her for far too long.