Chapter 24 CHAPTER 24
The smell of frying eggs filled the tiny apartment, warm and buttery, wrapping the morning in a sense of fragile peace. Cindy hummed softly as she turned the eggs in the pan, her hair tied loosely behind her. Beside the window, Isabel was fussing with her schoolbag, humming out of tune to the same melody.
“Smells amazing,” Isabel said, yawning. “You’re way too cheerful for a morning person.”
Cindy smiled over her shoulder. “Second day of work. I’m trying to make a good impression.”
“Well, you already impressed Pauline yesterday. Maybe she’ll make you head chef before the week ends.” Isabel laughed, tossing her hair into a ponytail.
“Don’t jinx it,” Cindy said, laughing too. “Now sit before your breakfast gets cold.”
She meant it playfully - but before Isabel could reply, something inside her twisted.
The spatula slipped from Cindy’s hand.
It started like a flicker of heat in her chest, a strange tightening that she’d come to dread. Then, without warning, the world spun sideways. Pain surged through her veins like molten metal. Her knees gave way, the pan crashed to the floor, and the hot oil splattered across her skin. She gasped, a choked, broken sound that tore from her throat before she could stop it.
“Cindy!” Isabel screamed, rushing forward.
The pan clattered to a stop near the wall. The smell of scorched eggs filled the air as Cindy hit the ground, trembling violently. The floorboards were cold beneath her palms, but her body was on fire—an invisible fire that licked through her flesh, branding her from within. She arched her back, eyes wide, breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Lisa…” she gasped. “Make it stop… please…”
Her voice broke. Across her arms, faint marks appeared, thin, glowing burns that spread over her skin in cruel, shifting patterns, as though unseen hands were searing her body. Isabel froze, eyes wide in horror.
“What’s happening to you?” she cried. “Cindy, talk to me!”
But Cindy couldn’t. Every breath was agony. Her fingers clawed weakly at the floor as if trying to scrape the pain out of her body. The marks deepened, glowing brighter before fading into angry red welts. Her body convulsed again, and a growl, not quite human, rumbled from her throat.
Then, her voice changed.
When Cindy spoke again, it was layered, deeper, edged with something primal. “Stay back, Isabel.”
Isabel stumbled, heart hammering. “Lisa?” she whispered.
Half of Cindy’s face shimmered, the color of her eyes shifting, one glowing gold, the other still human brown. Her voice came again, rough and strained. “She’s fighting it. The pain isn’t meant for her.”
Isabel pressed herself against the wall, trembling. “Please… don’t hurt me. I’m just trying to help her.”
“I won’t hurt you,” Lisa said, her tone steady despite the chaos around them. “But this bond, it’s burning her alive.”
Isabel swallowed hard, forcing herself to move. She grabbed a wet cloth from the sink, wrung it out, and knelt beside Cindy, ignoring the faint growl that rose from her half-shifted lips. She dabbed the cloth over the worst of the marks, her hands shaking. Steam hissed faintly where water met the burning skin.
“Please, please hold on,” Isabel whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Cindy, you have to fight it.”
Minutes passed like hours. Slowly, the convulsions began to fade. The air grew still again. The glow beneath Cindy’s skin dimmed until only faint red marks remained. Her breathing steadied, though each inhale sounded like it scraped against her lungs.
Lisa’s voice faded, replaced by Cindy’s trembling whisper. “It’s over.”
Isabel exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh my God. You scared me half to death.”
Cindy lay still for a long moment, her face pale and glistening with sweat. Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to….”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Isabel cut in, her voice trembling. “What was that? You were… burning.”
Cindy pushed herself up weakly, wincing as her muscles protested. The broken eggs had cooled in a messy heap beside her. “It’s the bond,” she said quietly. “It reacts whenever my mate - whenever he’s with someone else.”
Isabel blinked. “With someone else?” Her eyes widened as realization struck. “He’s… he’s having sex with another girl, isn’t he?”
Cindy looked away, unable to speak. That was answer enough.
“Unbelievable,” Isabel muttered, anger breaking through her fear. “And you feel that? Every time?”
Cindy nodded faintly, eyes fixed on the floor. “It doesn’t happen every time. Only when the bond is strongest. Only when… when he’s lost to it.”
“Lost to what, exactly?” Isabel pressed, frustrated tears rising in her eyes. “He’s your mate, right? He’s supposed to protect you, not hurt you like this!”
Cindy gave a weak smile. “It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know. The bond was rejected, but not broken. Until I accept it, it keeps fighting to stay alive.”
“Then break it,” Isabel said fiercely. “Go back and end it. Whatever it takes.”
Cindy’s eyes softened with sadness. “I wish it were that simple. I don’t even know if I’m strong enough to face him again.”
Isabel’s expression faltered. “Cindy… you can’t keep living like this. Look at you.” She reached out, her thumb tracing one of the fresh marks on Cindy’s arm. “These aren’t just emotional scars. They’re real.”
Cindy didn’t respond right away. She stared at the window where sunlight now spilled across the floor, golden and calm, as if mocking the chaos that had just passed. “I know,” she said finally. “But I need time. I need to find out who I am before I go back to that world.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The air smelled faintly of burnt food and damp cloth, but the worst had passed. Isabel stood and reached for the frying pan, shaking her head. “Well,” she said softly, forcing a shaky laugh, “breakfast’s ruined.”
Cindy let out a small laugh too—hoarse, but real. “I guess I owe you another one.”
“You owe me more than that,” Isabel teased weakly. “Next time, try not to set yourself on fire before work.”
Cindy smiled faintly as she got to her feet, clutching the edge of the counter for support. Her hands still trembled, but her spirit held. “Deal.”
She looked at the clock, almost seven-thirty. “We’re late,” she said, brushing the flour and dust off her clothes. “If I’m late on my second day, Pauline will think I’ve run away.”
Isabel grinned, despite herself. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” Cindy said, tying her apron with shaking hands. “But at least I’m alive.”
Together, they stepped out into the morning light, the memory of pain still clinging to Cindy’s skin like invisible fire. Somewhere far away, the bond still pulsed - unbroken, unwelcome, alive.